The Diary
by Edward'sBringingSexyBack
Summary: My father's words filled me with fear. I'd never known how much of a monster I'd been, and now the truth was staring me in the face. I had to go--I had to leave. I had to save them from myself.
1. The Red Dress

_**The Diary**_

_Chapter One: The Red Dress_

**Hello one and all! Haven't been here in a while! So, how is everybody?! **

**Anyway, this is a story about Renesmee and what happens after she finds her father's diary and the account of her birth. She'll have to find herself all over again, because she was never who she thought she was. And she'll have to do it alone (I feel like that's always my style…)**

**Anyway, enjoy! No prologue, this time, just starting off.**

**OOO**

I stared at the silky dress my aunt had just shoved into my hands. It was slick to the touch, the ruffles of fabric slipping through my fingers like running water. It was beautiful, really. But it was also fire engine red.

I gulped, my hands clenching around the dress tighter than necessary. "Um, Alice?"

She turned, surprised by the tone in my voice. It wasn't the first time. More often than not, Alice was caught off guard by my reactions to her schemes. "Yes?"

And that was a question, something she only used around me and Jacob, unless she was being sarcastic with my father. All her words did was remind me of how abnormal I was, as if that weren't evident enough, today of all days.

But Alice, being Alice, saw the hesitancy in my expression and sighed loudly. "What's wrong with it?"

"Isn't it a little . . . ." I gazed back down at the short dress. "Bold?"

"Bold," repeated my aunt flatly. "It's your seventh birthday."

My free hand flew to my curls in nervousness, and Alice promptly swatted it away. "Stop that," she commanded. "I will not have you destroying my masterpiece."

"Why does it have to be such a big deal?" I whined. "Who does this, anyway? It's just seven years."

"Yeah," said Alice, her eyes narrowing, "_since you were born_. And look at you—you look as if you could pass for twenty-one!" She seized my hand and twirled me around, approval written all over her perfect face. "You're gorgeous, Renesmee. Now go change and stop acting like your mother. I can only deal with one of you."

Defeatedly, I lifted a sweaty palm to her cheek, showing her a picture of my father with a cow beside him. "Daddy's going to have one of those."

"Your daddy will kill me, not you," Alice informed me, much too brightly for the occasion. "Besides," she added gleefully, "he can't have a cow. That's impossible."

I fled to the bathroom and pretended to stop listening, closing my eyes as I pulled on the dress. I zipped up the back, all the while refusing to open my eyes. After blindly smoothing the fabric against my skin, I opened them to see the red dress in action.

Against my pale skin, the red silk was mesmerizing, flattering in all the right places. It wasn't too tight, which I was thankful for. And not surprisingly, Alice had been correct once again, even without her flawless gift—the cut was beautiful on me, modest yet mature. The soft ruffles at the edges gave me the slightest hint of "Daddy's Little Girl."

"Do you like it?" called Alice.

I was still staring at my reflection, my eyes burning from lack of moisture. "Yes," I breathed.

She would hear.

**OOO**

I could hear my father downstairs, arguing with Alice over the red dress. My fingers fluttered over the soft material as I hid at the top of the stairs, trying to decide why I was so nervous. This birthday couldn't be so different from my other birthdays, could it?

But with my other birthdays, I had never had any problems with the frilly dresses Alice had put me in. On my other birthdays, Jasper hadn't had to repeatedly try to calm my nerves and fail at doing so. During my other birthdays, I'd never been scared of what might come next. I'd never been faced with the prospect of not getting older.

I stood there, against the wall, afraid to face my future.

And then, like jumping into a pool of chilling water, it hit me. Since I didn't grow anymore, I was no eligible to attend school without attracting unwanted attention. High school. My nose wrinkled in disgust. I had already learned everything Carlisle had wanted me to know, which included being fluent in Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, French, German, and, unfortunately, Russian. I was a whiz at math. I had perfect grammar, and I knew all my history in every country I could speak in. And science . . . well it went without saying. Science was my thing.

So why did I ever have to go to school? I would have to interact with people, something I'd never really done without constant assistance. I'd never been successful of making any friends outside of my family—how were you supposed to be friends with normal people when you were so beyond that point? What if, when I went to school, I accidentally let something slip? What if I thirsted for my friend's blood? What if I killed the teacher?

I would be such a freak, that's what.

"Renesmee."

I opened my tightly screwed eyes to find Jake standing in front of me. "Hey," I whispered, trying to make my voice sound normal.

He saw through it immediately, raising one thick eyebrow. But he said nothing about my lies, instead choosing to greet me classically: "Hey, Beautiful," he saluted with a smile, kissing my hand. "Why are you hiding out up here? You've got a full house of people waiting to see the officially-an-adult Miss Cullen."

I averted my gaze from his blinding, broad smile. "You know _exactly_ why."

"It's just another year," he reminded me.

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe for a normal person. For me, it's about two and a half, all rolled into twelve short months. So much of my life has already rushed past me. And what if, Jake," I blurted randomly, "what if I don't make friends—"

"Friends? This is what you're worried about?"

I nodded vigorously, probably messing up my hairdo.

"Ness." Jake closed my hand in his two massive ones. "People will _love_ you."

"But—"

"Ness," he repeated with a completely serious face. This did not happen often. "We take it one step at a time, just as we've done everything else before. Right now, that step is having a good time at this killer party your overly enthusiastic aunt has put together." He smiled again, making me want to smile, too. "Okay?"

"But what if they don't like me?" I refused to let this subject go—it was important to me.

Jake sighed, looking to the ceiling. "You know what?" He could see the serious attitude wasn't working, so he switched gears. "If people don't love you, Nessie, I will bash their heads in, all right?"

My eyebrows shot up. "Oh yes, I'm quite sure that will help with my popularity. I'll become so likeable with a violent, murderous, werewolf boyfriend. Why didn't _I_ think of that?"

"Thanks so much for the support." He kissed my forehead and led me away from the wall. "Shall we?"

The funny thing was, Jake's joke worked. The sentimental thing worked sometimes, but usually I just needed someone to take away the edge. Jake was the man to take care of that, although my entire family could be hysterical if they wanted to. But Jake . . . he always knew exactly what to say.

"Don't try and sound proper," I told him as he led me to the stairwell. "It doesn't suit you."

"Ouch."

Down the stairs he led me, hand in hand, to the family I loved. There stood Esme in a flawless white gown, a radiant smile on her face with my grandfather beside her. As always, he had a book tucked away in his free hand, looking embarrassed as he saw me notice it. All the men today were wearing dress suits, courtesy of Alice, no doubt. Emmett, who was cheering me on with whoops and whistles beside a equally ecstatic Alice, was wearing a less traditional suit. He'd ripped the sleeves so his muscles could breathe, and his tie was loose (he looked ridiculous). Alice was more glamorous as she shouted for me; her dress was black, as usual, sparkling under the dim lamplight. Rosalie and Jasper, painfully embarrassed by their spouses, clapped politely and smiled warmhugely as I entered. The wolves that had attended—Embry, Seth, Quil, and Leah—were more enthusiastic, jumping in place in anticipation of my arrival.

And then my gaze fell on my parents, who looked just as miserable as they were happy. My mother's eyes shone with impossible tears, her lips trembling behind her hand. She clasped my father's hand tightly in her own, as my father gave me a quick once over. I could tell he was relieved that the dress was not as horrible as Alice had let on, but he seemed sad to see me so grown up.

As I went over to hug them, suddenly feeling better about school, my father pulled me into an awkward, one-armed hug, seeing as his other hand was taken. "Renesmee," he said warmly, smiling down at me. "Wow, it's difficult to believe you're eighteen."

"Seven," my mother corrected him harshly. "She's seven."

He gave my mother a sheepish grin and a squeeze on her hand. All this year, she'd had trouble coping with the looming idea of me getting older. She'd repeatedly maintained that she wasn't ready for me to grow up yet, while starting fixatedly at the baby clothes I'd only worn once. And when Jake and I had begun the couple business shortly after my sixth birthday, she'd completely flipped out, although I'm positive she'd been expecting it for the past five years.

So now, I was more worried about her reaction to my dress. She gave me a quick once over, just like my father, and pulled me into an iron embrace. "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, "I'm going to miss you so much."

I met my dad's confused gaze over her shoulder. _What was she talking about?_ Neither of us had a clue.

"Bella," chimed Jake, trying to cover up a laugh, "she's not going off to college. She's not even leaving the house."

"I know," said my mom, only hugging me tighter.

Emmett made an immediate sound of protest: "You're hogging her, Bella!" So, she finally let go, her hand flitting out to smooth my hair back, a motion so automatic and so classic that it made my heart break.

"Now give me a hug!" Emmett exclaimed as he leapt for me. Sensing danger, I nimbly sidestepped his attack, one of the advantages to being a dancer. He crashed into the floor, ripping his shirt further.

Esme gasped angrily, her previously happy expression turning murderous. She started for Emmett, but Edward held up a practiced hand and reach down to grasp my uncle's shredded collar, as if Emmett couldn't get up by himself.

Jake watched the scene with bemused interest. He never got sick of watching my reckless family and their brawls. Sometimes, he wanted to join in, but my mother and I insisted that it was too dangerous—what would happen if he got bitten? And then he'd look at me, and the wistfulness would die away.

Now, my father glared at Emmett. "Now, how many times have I told you—?"

"She's breakable," finished Emmett sourly, shooting me a glare. "I know."

"Then stop lunging at her like a maniac."

Although I was strong (and now immortal), I was still human. I still bled. My bones were breakable. I was not as strong as a vampire. That was another thing I hated about being a freak—my own family had to show restraint around me.

"And stop thinking like that, Renesmee." My father shot me a look. "That's not true."

Emmett looked alarmed. "What's she thinking about me? What'd she say?"

"Nothing," replied my father, smiling. Although he was being truthful at the moment, Emmett would never know for sure. "Now go hug her. Carefully, Emmett! _Carefully_!"

I laughed as Emmett engulfed me into a hug, swinging me back and forth. "Some careful hug," my father muttered, but Emmett ignored him, grinning at me.

"Dang, Kid! You're seven years old." He held me out at arms length. "Somehow, I pictured you different."

"With a bow in my hair?" I asked sarcastically, feeling annoyed by my abnormal growth spurts.

Emmett laughed. "Yeah, something like that."

He was shoved out of the way by Rosalie, who excitedly caught both of my hands and wrapped me into a hug. "Oh, Ness, you look so pretty. That would be a beautiful dance dress, you know." She winked.

"She knows," responded my father bitterly. He wasn't completely on board with my dancing, seeing as it could be immodest at times. "She already thought about it."

Rose mockingly raised her eyebrows in question. _What's up with him?_ said her facial expression as she stepped aside for Jasper and Alice.

"I knew it," said my shorter aunt, pleased with my appearance. "I knew it would be gorgeous. Although it's always more difficult," she brooded, "when you can't see your model."

"Sorry, Alice," I apologized. She laughed and blew me a "fashonista" kiss, something I was used to after all these years.

Jasper smiled at me. "Hey," he said. "Who knew you clean up good? You're always covered in dirt every time I see you."

That was in reference to my constant training I got from him. Everyday he would take me out to the forest, and we'd fight in case the Volturi—bastards that they are—came knocking. Every time he beat me, I got pummeled into the ground, and therefore covered in dirt.

"Thanks, Uncle Jazz," I mumbled.

There was a brief conversation with Carlisle and Esme, in which my grandfather asked me how I felt today, now that it had been a month since my last growing pain. Esme looked as tearful as my mother, and before I could really talk to her, Alice announced it as time for dinner.

Dinner was always extremely weird in this house, whenever I chose to have normal food. Jacob and I would eat, and the rest of my family would stare at our repulsive meals, looks of clear disgust on their faces.

"Smells good, Mrs. Cullen!" Seth called to Esme, falling into a chair. It was something he did often.

"I'm glad," replied my young grandmother, setting a plate of chicken and spaghetti squash in front of him. "That squash is healthy for you," she chided as he poked it.

"Shouldn't have told me that, Mrs. Cullen," he joked, but wolfed into it anyway, his eyes eager with hunger.

I watched Seth with a mixture of amusement and amazement. I had never understood how one person could eat so much.

Leah, to my surprise, sat beside me and offered me a smile. I'd tried my best to include her lately, although she wasn't always a big fan of my existence. At first she'd been annoyed because I'd ruined her plans to run away, and then . . . then I was just too _nice_. Uncomfortably nice to her, she admitted later.

And now we'd become something short of friends.

Both dinner and the cake were amazing. I was ecstatic once it was over, however, so I could finally just relax and give up the dressy charade. As the wolves filtered out to go home, I fell easily into the seat beside Jacob to take a long breath.

"You haven't opened your presents, Nessie."

I opened an eye to glare at Alice. "Do I have to?"

"I thought you loved presents." Genuinely confounded, she leaned against the arm of my chair with a puzzled expression. "What's wrong with presents?"

"I do," I replied hastily, in no mood to disappoint her. "I'm just tired."

"That's not it," cut in Jacob harshly. My eyes swiveled towards him, begging him to shut his mouth. "She doesn't want to open the presents because she's afraid they'll relate to school."

My head fell into my hands. Never mind—Jacob _never_ knew the right thing to say. Feeling a knife embed itself in my back, I raised my guilty gaze back to Alice's expectant one.

"School?" she repeated blankly. She did that a lot with me. "This has to deal with _school_, Renesmee?"

My reply was meek. "Yes."

A loud, unnecessary sigh escaped my aunt's rigid lips. "I don't understand your fear of it. It's boring, it's tedious, and the bell rings—your done."

"But the people," I added uneasily. "The people scare me."

"The weaklings?" clarified Emmett. I threw him a glare. "How do they scare you? They're twigs!"

My father beat me to responding. "She's afraid of what they'll think of her. She's afraid of not making friends."

"Who needs friends?" asked Emmett. "You have us."

"I believe your missing the point," chimed Rosalie, an annoyed smile on her face as she explained the situation to her confused lover. "She wants to be normal—_I _understand the feeling, unlike some people."

"Rose, we've all felt that way." Carlisle's voice was even, but I knew he'd had this conversation with Rosalie many times before. "Everyone in this room understands how it feels to be different."

Bella stood gracefully from her chair, thoughtful. She looked at me, and then Jacob, and then she smiled. "Think about this, Renesmee," she told me, her eyes lighting up. "Everyone at your school will have family problems, or just personal problems. Nobody's free of issues. Their dad could be an alcoholic, or their parents could be split up, or their mother might be too busy to pay attention to them. Sweetie, everybody at your school will have issues. Not just you."

I understood what she was saying, but the thoughts of our weekly activities chewed a hole in my stomach. "Mom. We hunt."

"So do southern country boys," she replied easily. "It's all about the perspective."

My answer to this newfound logic was heavy with sarcasm. "Oh. So I guess they drink the animals' blood, too, right? Not to mention we live in the North."

"Renesmee," my father scolded. "Enough with the backtalk. I know you're nervous but it's not fair to snap at your mother."

I lifted my gaze back to my mother's, whose was purely unfazed by my retort. I knew she would understand my apology.

"But I can't make friends," I told everyone, my eyes pleading with them to understand. "I've never had to do it before. I don't relate to any of them." I turned my pleading gaze to Carlisle, begging him to understand. "Can't I just stay homeschooled?"

"Absolutely not," Edward replied at once, cutting my grandfather to the chase. My guess was that Carlisle hadn't seen any problem with my question, and Edward had disagreed. "You need human experiences, Nessie. It's what keeps you sane."

"High school?" snorted Jacob. "Sane? I think not."

"You aren't helping," growled my father, and Bella placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

Carlisle had remained silent through the entire exchange. He hadn't said one word about my proposition, thanks to my father, and whenever the subject of my schooling came up, he seemed almost indifferent towards it. "You already know everything you want to know, Ren. I don't understand the fascination your father has with human experiences, but this is something that you'll have to take up with him."

So I had, time and time again. And over and over, he had denied my request. Carlisle was my last hope.

"Edward," he said now, tone thoughtful and almost amused.

My father scowled. "No."

"I don't think it is severely important that we send Renesmee to school so soon," he said anyway. I knew my father had already heard this in his thoughts, but my guess was that my grandfather was talking to me, too. "She's just turned eighteen"—a mumbled _seven_ came from my mother—"and perhaps you're overestimating her confidence."

"All of us were nervous when school began," he interrupted. "Right, Jasper?"

Jasper's expression became slightly offended, but he turned to me apologetically. "I'm staying out of this one, Nessie. Sorry."

I waved him off, my gaze turning back to Carlisle. He continued now, stronger than before. "Perhaps," he said again, ignoring the comment from his eldest son, "a compromise is in order. You're well aware of compromises, aren't you?"

I was almost positive I was missing something. Everyone in the room suddenly went rigid with suppressed laughter—except my mom, who smiled sheepishly, and my father, who looked extremely annoyed at some breach of security. Awkwardly, Jacob slid down in his seat.

"Don't worry about it, Renesmee," my father told me, staring coldly at my grandfather. Edward was in a hell of a mood tonight. "I'm going to ignore that."

Oops.

"Carlisle," Edward said, "this is ridiculous. So you have a soft spot for her—that doesn't mean she can be excluded from society."

Carlisle chuckled. "I never said that."

"You thought it."

"I did not."

My father was quiet, sensing something in Carlisle's voice. Instantly, I was transferred to an image of a small boy getting caught stealing cookies. Edward didn't look at me, but I was sure he'd seen my metaphor. I wanted to show Jake, but it was a tense moment, and i figured I'd sit it out..

"I said," Carlisle continued, his smile returning, "that a compromise was in order. We haven't exactly prepared Renesmee for the unknown. Maybe we should enroll in school in the winter, after Christmas, and that way she gets a little more time to prepare and to conquer her fears."

I smiled at my grandfather. His proposition was perfect.

My father was reluctant, but he instantly knew he was outnumbered as the choruses of agreements echoed through the room. He looked at me and asked me a silent question: "Are you sure?"

I was positive.

He turned back to Carlisle. "Of course. The compromise makes perfect sense."

**OOO**

**Okay! Renesmee is a wonder child! Cool!**

**Anyway,** **this is just sort of a background check. The real story will start in the next chapter, which shouldn't take to long because I've already started it. Happy reading!**

**And the presents Renesmee gets are in the next chapter.**

**Jamie.**


	2. Monster

_**The Diary**_

_Chapter Two: Monster_

**Monster—by Skillet**

**Those of you familiar with my writing, I like to use songs to kick off a chapter and to give my readers a little taste of what the main character feels like while she's going through her ordeals. This time, I've chosen the above song to accessorize the chapter. It's an option if you want to listen to it or not.**

_**So**_**, in the last chapter, we learned that Renesmee would not be attending school for a few more months. As this chapter starts, note that she has not started training for normal life. That's important.**

**Also, I wanna give a shout out to my most loyal reviewer, who I always look forward to hearing from. Fiction101, thank you again for reviewing on every single story of mine, and practically every single chapter. I always look forward to hearing your thoughts.**

**And now, Chapter 2. **

**OOO**

"God, I'm bored."

I was a typical Saturday evening: my family had gone hunting, reluctantly leaving me alone with Jake for the fifth time in my life. Surprisingly, it had been my mother, not Alice, who had convinced my overprotective father to allow me to be alone with my boyfriend.

"We have movies," I reminded Jacob sweetly, patting his knee.

He groaned. "I looked at all of them."

I highly doubted that, but I said nothing except, "We have more in the attic." Some attic, I added silently. It was as big as two bedrooms combined. "I'll go look."

His arms flew to my waist. "No!" he protested madly. "Don't go!"

I effectively removed his hands. "So what are we supposed to go if you don't allow me away from you?"

"I can think of a few things," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows.

"No."

"Why not?" He looked so heartbroken, it was almost comical. Almost.

"You know exactly why not." I reached my hand over to his face to show him my thoughts: My father striding through the door, looking livid to find me in a heated, shirtless embrace with Jacob.

His eyes went mockingly wide. "Are you really wearing that bra?"

"I am _not_ answering that," I told him harshly, removing my hand. He made a move to grasp it, but I danced out of his way and headed for the stairs.

"That's a yes!" he called after me, struggling to get up.

"You're worse than Emmett!" I shot back, darting up the steps. "I'm leaving now. Going to the attic. By _myself_." He stared after me dejectedly, hurt in his eyes. "I know you were just kidding. I'll be back down with a movie in a few minutes."

I ascended the stairs as quickly as possible, my feet dancing across the wood without sound. While dancing and playing the piano were ways of expressing myself, and two things I felt confident in, playing the guitar was my real passion. Jake had taken the practice up for me, and we would have a "battle of the sexes" every Monday afternoon in Rosalie's garage. I always won, and not because he let me.

Lost in my thoughts, I wasn't aware I'd reached the attic door until it happened to smack me in the face. "Ow," I muttered, glaring at it.

"You okay?" called Jake, not sounding at all concerned. This happened often when I forgot how to use my grace.

"Yeah." Some dancing, I added to myself.

Carefully this time, I opened the door, rubbing the rapidly healing bruise on my forehead. The attic looked like just every other room in the house—spotless, tidy, huge—except for the fact it reminded me of a department store. On the floor stood racks of clothing from my family's past lives: clothes that had long since gone out of style had been promptly tucked away by Alice, hanging neatly on the metal rods, bookshelves lined the walls, movie and music racks were way in the back. There was at least on of each of these things for every family member, including Jake.

And these things weren't easy to lug around. After we'd moved to New Hampshire a few years ago, Alice had rented about five moving trucks (all to arrive on different days in the favor of remaining inconspicuous) to take all of this with her. "You never know when certain clothes might come back into style," she'd explained slyly with a wink in Bella's direction. I'd decided not to pry.

Smiling, I walked over to Jake's rack. The sweatpants he had been in favor of were nowhere to be found, although he'd tucked them into his suitcase. My guess was that Alice had decided to throw them away without consulting him. I didn't blame her—the things were ratty and beyond repair.

On my way to the movie section, I passed my father's set of bookshelves, which was almost as expansive as Carlisle's. However, out of the many colorful paperbacks and hard-covers, one bland, leather-bound notebook caught my eye. I felt compelled to touch it, to stroke its binding and cradle it to my chest.

I had never _not_ been encouraged to read my father's account of his many lives, I reasoned with myself. There was no rule that banned me from doing so. And yet, as I stared at the book, I found myself feeling guilty as well as immensely curious. It was a breach of secrecy, I told myself. Maybe I should ask first before assuming I'm aloud to just open any book.

But for every time I told myself I shouldn't be prying, my curiosity reciprocated with a well thought out excuse. My hand reached for the book, and as my fingers touched the binding, just barely, a shiver coursed through my veins.

Was it fear that I felt, now? Or merely anticipation? I pulled my hand the slightest centimeter away, contemplating, and then, against my better judgment, my hand shot forward to close around the cover. I pulled it towards me with a fierceness I cannot describe, and it fell, heavy, into my waiting hand.

Dazed from the adrenaline rush, I let the pages fall open. Every account, every word, I realized, was from the year I was born. I knew for a fact that _that_ particular year was crowded with events and emotions, and as I flipped through the crisp pages, I came across all of them: my parents' engagement, their graduation, the newborn fight, their wedding . . . . I skipped blindly over their honeymoon, not wishing to hear any specifics, and then I came across my mother's pregnancy.

I don't know what I had been expecting. I didn't remember much from my earliest days, so anything would come as a surprise.

I know that I didn't expect _this_ surprise, however:

_I am unsure of how to describe my feelings at the moment, but I cannot help but feel that everything, every happy moment, was wrong. If it all led up to this, I'm sorry to say nothing was worth it. Not even falling in love with Bella was worth it, because if we had never fallen in love, this never would have happened._

_There is a murderer in my wife, sucking away every ounce of her life, her color, her beauty. And it is my entire fault. I should have known better than to agree with her. Was this worth her precious human experience? Was it worth her death? I feel that it was not. It never was._

_I am sickened by the monster, by the absurd rate that it grows, by the life that it steals away for itself. I am helpless to do anything to help my Bella, for it is against her will for me to gladly kill the devil inside of her. And neither does it help that Rosalie is backing her. Does my "sister" even care about Bella's safety? Perhaps Jacob's anger-inspired assumptions were correct. Maybe Rosalie does just want the demon child for herself and Bella easily gone, out of the picture. God knows they've always had a questionable relationship. However, if this is the way it ends for us—and it won't—Rosalie can have the spawn, because the monster will be orphaned before it can even blink._

Horrified, I pulled away from the book. Demon child? Murderer? _Monster_? My heart had leapt into my chest at his harsh words. Terrible images flashed through my mind—my father glaring at my mother's turned back, wishing I had never come to exist. I pictured him conspiring with the rest of my family—Emmett, Alice, even Carlisle—with looks of pure loathing on every pristine face.

And Jacob! By the way my father made it sound, he'd been against me, too.

All my life, I'd been equally loved by everyone in my family. Alice always bought things for me, Rosalie had taught me dance. Emmett was always the one that played board games with me, and Jasper had taught me how to fight. Carlisle had taught me how to learn, and Esme had tutored me in cooking and gardening. My mother, father and Jacob's love went without saying.

The knowledge that I'd been _hated_ made my face hot with shame. What could I have done? I had just grown fast, right? That was all, right?

I read on, unable to stop. I had to know what I'd done—what had made my father loathe my very being.

_I cannot take this anymore—I feel as if I'm being burned from the inside out. Bella has been forced to resort to drinking blood—blood!—in order to stay alive. Jacob was repulsed by the action, almost as much as me, but for entirely different reasons. However, we soon became overjoyed by our success—finally, a way to outsmart the beast. Bella was able to come off the hospital bed and color returned to her wax like face. We were ecstatic._

_Our ecstasy was short-lived, however. The monster grew stronger within hours. Jacob arrived in a wreck, more livid than his usual infuriated state. His thoughts match mine exactly. The stronger the fetus gets, we both realize, the more chance there is that Bella will succumb to it. Already, the thing has begun to break her bones . . ._

I tore my watery eyes way. _Blood_. The thought made me tremble. As a _human_, my mother had drunken—I couldn't finish the thought. So no wonder my father had hated me. I'd been killing his wife, day by agonizing day.

_Oh god_, I thought. _Oh, god. Oh, god_.

And then, stupidly and without reason, I read ahead to the day of my birth, September Ninth.

_As I sit here writing this, Bella lays motionless except for the shallow breaths that show her pain. Somehow, she's refrained from screaming, from writhing in place, from begging to die. I can't help but wonder if I've done something terribly wrong._

_I recount the circumstances in order to find my mistake:_

_After hearing the baby's thoughts prior to her birth, I'd been feeling better. Bella had a chance of hope, now that we could safely and effectively remove the child. I'd been astonished to see that it was capable of love, and that it did love. That it was trying to stay within itself in order to protect its mother._

_Jacob did not see it this way. He felt ruthlessly betrayed by my sudden excited state. He nearly had a mental breakdown before I launched my car keys at him and told him to get some air. He didn't realize what hearing the baby's thoughts provided us with. He didn't understand the hope. And yet, I'm afraid he never will. He will never forgive me about doing this to Bella, about putting her through the pain, even if we did have a happy ending._

_Which we did, so far. The baby is a girl, Renesmee Carlie Cullen. She's beautiful with her warm brown eyes and auburn curls, but she's growing uncomfortably fast. I already love her more than myself, more than my family._

_However, the circumstances surrounding her birth were anything but beautiful._

_It was ironic how, in one more day, the baby was to be born. Its thoughts had told me everything I needed to know. But I underestimated the baby. As Rosalie and I went to take Bella to the bathroom, her cup of blood fell, and Bella being Bella, she lunged for it. This disturbed the child, who moved merely a centimeter, which set everything, every horrible action, into motion._

_The baby accidentally detached the placenta, causing Bella to shriek in anguish, vomit all the blood she'd drunk, and pass out. As the baby grew too big for the womb, it began to suffocate, and we rushed Bella's bloodied body upstairs and began our seemingly futile attempt to save her and the baby._

_Bella awoke halfway through, screaming as Jacob stood motionless in the doorway. The blood vessels in her eyes popped, her mouth filled with blood. There was a debate between Rose and I about whether to let the morphine spread, but there was no time. As Rosalie pierced Bella's skin, something else happened. Something that complicated everything. She got thirsty._

_Jacob leapt into action, knocking Rosalie out of the room so Alice could get rid of her. Before Jacob could practice CPR on Bella's unmoving body, the baby broke her spine, causing her to go unconscious once again. Jacob immediately began his task, thinking desperate thoughts, horrifying thoughts. _

_And then, as I removed Renesmee, Bella went limp, but she breathed. I stared at the tiny baby in my arms, the beautiful creature I'd once hated. I couldn't imagine now how I could possibly loathe her for anything, not even Bella's death. _

_Bella asked for her, so of course I gave it to her, thinking the baby would do nothing to hurt her. I was wrong. It had been searching for milk, I suppose, when it bit her breast. I snatched it away, shocked but not angry, and chided my daughter._

_And then it happened. Bella's heart stopped._

_Jacob continued the CPR in a blur of motion, and I stood there, for once unsure of how to proceed. "Take the baby," I demanded of him, to which he responded, "Throw it out the window." I wasted no time being upset with his comment, as Rosalie had appeared, now in control, able to take Renesmee off my needed hands._

_I couldn't let myself feel the dreaded emotions that had plagued me for the past month. That would not help Bella now. So instead, I grasped the syringe I had prepared and plunged it into Bella's unmoving heart. I then proceeded to add my venom to her wrists, her ankles, her throat._

_After a moment, Jacob's mind went into acceptance. He knew Bella was not coming back, and he couldn't bear it. He wanted to leave. I told him to go, shoving him away from my Bella, telling myself that she would live, she would be fine._

_I still don't know if that's the case._

_Moments later, as I worked over Bella, Jacob's thoughts filled with hatred. I could see him staring at my daughter, contemplating how to murder her. Could he kill Rosalie before Alice and Jasper came to her rescue? Could he kill them, as well? The abomination—as he classified Renesmee—needed to be taken care of. _

_As much as I hated his thoughts, I couldn't leave Bella alone, dead or dying. I desperately wanted to warn Rosalie, but I couldn't get the words to interrupt my mantra. "She's alive, alive, alive . . ." I kept muttering to myself, and nothing could stop it._

_His thoughts raged on, analyzing his plan from every angle. He wouldn't kill me, he decided, because it was too fair to do so. Jacob wanted me to live with what I'd done. _

_And that was why I was so surprised when, odds of all odds, Jacob imprinted on my daughter._

_And Bella's heart began to beat._

I wasn't breathing anymore.

The words lunged off the page at me, making me want to cry. _Vomited blood . . . shriek . . . thirsty . . . dead _. . . . I gasped in pain, in horror, throwing the book away from me with a vengeance.

It was all my fault . . . . Everything was my fault. I'd killed my mother.

And Jacob wanted to _kill_ me. He was completely justified, of course. I didn't blame him. But now, now I was holding my power over him. He only loved me because he _had_ to. He'd wanted me dead. He'd wanted me not to exist.

And how could my father love me, after all of that? Surely, like nothing else in this diary, that had been a lie. He couldn't. Not after all the destruction I'd caused.

My chest hurt from every revelation that had crossed my mind.

"Hey!" called Jacob from downstairs. "Did you find that movie?"

His words were innocent enough, but they sent my world spiraling. Every game we'd played, every conversation we'd had, every kiss that had graced my lips . . . Every interaction we'd ever had was a lie.

A sob escaped my chest as my hands flew to my face.

The sound made Jacob come running.

Quickly, I grabbed the book, placing it back in the bookshelf perfectly. I needed an excuse for the tears, for the crying, so I deliberately snagged my right hand on one of the bookshelves, smearing blood across the wood. I would tell them I'd tripped. They would believe that.

Jacob barged through the door just as I collapsed to the ground. "Nessie?" he asked, alarmed. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, trying my best to sound like I'd only cut myself, not like my entire world had been turned upside down. "Yeah, I just tripped," I lied, showing him my hand. "I tried to catch myself and it didn't work out very well."

"Why are you crying?" He was suspicious. I should've known.

As I stood, I said, "It hurts," as if it was obvious.

"All right. Forget the movie." He grabbed my healthy hand and led me out of the room. "We should probably clean that up."

I sighed, my heart breaking. I was red-handed in more ways than one. My world would _never_ be clean again.

**OOO**

**And there we go. **

**I lied about the presents. Next chapter—I promise. Um, so story's in motion. I'm liking it so far. What are you guys thinking?**

**Jamie.**


	3. Emotion Sickness

**The Diary**

_Chapter 3: Emotion Sickness_

**Emotion Sickness—by SilverChair**

**So most of you (by most of you I mean two out of four, haha) said the last chapter was "intense," or something along those lines. Well, I hope that meant it was a good intense. This story will be very, very like the second chapter throughout. Just a heads-up.**

**So, here's chapter three. **

**Thanks again for all the reviews.**

**OOO**

I sat motionless on the couch, barely feeling Jacob's arm around my shoulders. I felt stiff, and my eyes stung with the effort of holding back a dam's worth of tears. All my thoughts consisted of was my mother during the minutes I was born, the images burned into my mind, making it impossible to think of anything else.

"Hey, Nessie," Jacob said suddenly—or it felt like suddenly; I'd lost track of time—with concern written on his face. "You okay?"

I wondered how convincingly I could lie. I'd never done it before, never felt the need to. And anyways, my father could always pick a lie out of your thoughts like a needle from a haystack. I'd never dared to lie to him before. So how would Jacob react? Would he notice? Would he believe me?

"Yeah," I told him, jumping a little as if he'd woken me from distant thoughts. "Sorry," I added sheepishly, giving him a weak and hopingly-convincing smile. "It's just—have you ever gotten that feeling of your eyes stinging when you watch too much TV?"

My eyes were burning for an entirely different reason, but he didn't need to know that.

He laughed, to my surprise and relief, and squeezed my rigid shoulder. "Yeah. It's lame, isn't it?"

"Very," I conceded, my hand reaching up to touch his. If I was going to lie, my body needed to lie, too.

"So did you learn any new dance moves?" he asked a moment later.

I shook my head, trying to think of ways to distract myself. "No. Rosalie's been busy working on Emmett's new car, lately. She's putting every fiber of her being into that project, so she hasn't had any time."

He nodded thoughtfully, looking uneasy.

"Are _you_ okay?" I asked him.

He blinked. "Yeah. It's just I can't get over the fact that Rosalie is a mechanic. We have something in _common_. It's sick."

"You've known this for years."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "When you have eternity, years are counted like months, or even days." He looked at me. "Especially when time flies by so fast."

_I wouldn't know,_ I thought to myself. All I'd ever known was growing up, and as much as eternity did stretch out before me, the years in front of me still looked long and hard, especially after what I'd just learned.

Dissatisfied with Jake's take on life, I turned back to the movie, rubbing my arms to stop the self-induced gooseflesh from rising.

"You're cold?" demanded Jake incredulously. I didn't get cold.

I lied again, to my utter shame. "No." I gestured to the TV again, forcing my eyes to look animated and interested. "The movie's really good. I always get goosebumps at good parts in movies."

And again, he nodded, believing my lie as easily as if it were the truth. I closed my eyes behind the veil my hair had created and took a deep breath.

I just hoped I could fool my father as well.

**OOO**

That night, I stared at my half-eaten plate of deer meat, too repulsed by myself to devour anything further. Pictures of blood filled my head, and for once, I didn't long for the taste.

My father misread my thoughts. "Renesmee," he scolded, breaking away from his conversation with Alice. "Your grandmother has prepared that for you. Aren't you going to finish it?"

Paranoid, I glanced to Jacob, who hadn't eaten much either in his concern for my well-being. Why didn't _he_ get in trouble? Did my father know something? Was he testing me?

"You're right," was all I said, however, my tone flat. I stabbed a piece of venison with my fork and held it to my lips. "Of course I am."

Alice watched me carefully, her perfect face ridden with concern. She knew how I acted, and tonight I had not been myself. I'd barely said two words since they'd gotten back, and I hadn't shown anybody anything with my other form of communication. It just wasn't like me to be so quiet, so sulky, and she knew this.

"Renesmee," she began cautiously, forcing a fake smile on her face, "Did you play the guitar at all today?"

My father's gaze cut at her from the side, looking annoyed and rather curious. Before I could answer my aunt's question (which would undoubtedly tell her if there _was_ something wrong with me—I never _didn't_ play my guitar), Edward glared at her.

"Why do you always worry about everything you can't see?" he growled, narrowing his eyes. "You're reading too much into it. Leave her alone."

I would have thanked my father, except for the fact Alice was right. She was always right.

"Not today," I told Alice, trying to keep my tone as light as possible. "My playing hand hurt too much."

Another lie, and a bad one this time. Everyone knew that I had cut my hand today—the purposes they were unaware of—but it had healed to a faint, white line on my palm now, and Alice was well-aware of my health status. We both knew it hadn't hurt as much as I'd let on.

My mother would have noticed these things immediately. However, she was engaged in a conversation with Jasper about the revolution and my fighting techniques. My mother had trained with Jasper and Emmett as much as she could during her first few years as a vampire, and she was almost as good as the both of them combined. No one would have thought this years ago, but my mother liked to fight almost as much as Emmett.

Alice narrowed her eyes at me, once again annoyed that she couldn't see my future, and undoubtedly, she was infuriated with my father's lack of concern. But she said nothing, which ate me up inside.

Even my most perceptive aunt didn't realize I was dying inside.

**OOO**

"I win," my father announced, smirking.

The chess pieces hadn't moved a centimeter, but he and Alice had reached a conclusion within five minutes. As my father reached over to flick Alice's queen, she growled under her breath. Most of my family clapped at my aunt's downfall, for so many of them had lost bets to the black-haired pixie.

I didn't clap. I hadn't moved in an hour.

My mother eyed me from her perch on the arm of my chair. "Are you okay, honey?"

"I'm fine." The response was automatic. I must have rehearsed it in my head ten thousand times. "Why do you guys keep asking me that?"

I'd learned the turntable technique from books and movies. If you make the questioner believe they've misread something, they feel bad for your trouble and quit asking. My mother was no exception, merely smiling and turning away.

I could understand her acceptance, but my father's befuddled me. He could read my mind, realize I was lying within a single moment. My only guess for his ignorance was the fact that he had no reason to believe I would lie to him, so he didn't feel the need to check.

Either that or I was an excellent liar, and that sickened me.

I was still moping, quite a while later, my eyes staring sightlessly at the floor, when my thoughts erupted.

I'd been doing such an amazing job all night, keeping them in check. Not one single thought of my mother's almost-death had passed before my eyes, and I hadn't thought anything about how Jacob hated me. I hadn't let anything slip.

And then I began to think of how much everyone should hate me, and how Jacob still would if it weren't for some voodoo magic. I began to get angry, thinking of my mother's lifeless body, mangled and broken just so I could live. The rage built up in my chest, once again leaving me with a breathless feeling of suffocation.

Alarmed, Jasper stared at me, probably wondering what could have happened today to make me so hateful. My father was still gloating over an offended Alice, so he didn't notice my distressed uncle's thoughts.

Jasper was about to cross the room to comfort me when my mind let loose a pained shriek.

_YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED ME WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE!_

It had been screamed in my head along with a barrelful of gory, frightening images. Even though I stayed completely still on, inside, I was writhing in pain, hyperventilating, clawing at my own face.

On the outside, I saw my father stop smiling, his head jerking up. His eyes met mine from across the room, hard as flint, as his entire body went rigid. "_What_ did you just say, Renesmee?"

The entire room went silent, all eyes on me.

My mind went blank, but I could feel the panic setting in. "I didn't say—"

As his icy gaze made me squirm, I reminded myself that I deserved this—I wanted him to be angry with me. I wanted him to yell at me.

And that made my father break. He stared at me with confusion written all over his face, and said softly, "You are going to come with me, and we are going to talk about this alone. One on one."

I nodded, although I honestly doubted talking would help anything at all.

**OOO**

I sat across from my father in Carlisle's study, suddenly aware of an overwhelming guilt that overpowered the self-hatred I was feeling. My hands fidgeted nervously in my lap, a habit I'd quit long ago. Just like a child, I refused to look my father in the eye, going through the Egyptian hieroglyphics in my mind.

"Renesmee," he whispered, leaning forward to grasp my restless hands. "What is going on?"

Like a broken dam, the memories flooded forth, from my mind to his. Me, ascending the stairs to find a movie. Me, noticing that damned leather book. Me, reading everything I'd ever done to my mother, condensed into just pages of emotion.

My father sat back as if I'd physically hurt him, staring at me with hurt eyes.

"I know I shouldn't have read your journal," I said quickly, afraid my thoughts might be jumbled with conflicting emotions. "I know it was wrong of me. I know it's your memories, not mine. I understand why you're mad."

"You think I'm upset with you?"

"Why wouldn't you be—?"

"Renesmee." The word was spoken carefully but harshly, all in attempt to get me to listen. "You cannot start thinking like that."

It was too late. I'd already gone through every scenario in my head of some way that it hadn't happened. I'd already tried to lie to myself. I already tried to tell myself that Jacob did love me. But the real Jacob didn't. It was just a façade. It wasn't real.

"Can you explain to me that thought process?" my father demanded.

I took a deep breath. "He kind of has to, doesn't he? It's not like _Sam_ had a choice. It's not like it wasn't some voodoo magic that caused it. He was ready to kill me before it happened, so that must mean something. He loved _Mom_, Daddy. He doesn't really love me. The real Jacob doesn't love me."

This was followed by the angry clattering of a chair being pushed to the floor, and then footsteps pounding up the light, wooden stairs. I knew it was Jacob before my father winced, before the door slammed against the wall, before I heard his heavy breathing.

"Did I just hear that right?" he asked Edward, sounding royally pissed off. "The girl I've watched over, cared for, and taught for over seven years doesn't think I love her?"

"She thinks," Edward answered slowly, never looking up from my face, "that you don't have a choice."

Jacob had no retort for that, so instead he ordered, "What brought this on? This has never been an issue before. And how'd she know all that other crap? I thought we'd agreed—"

My father closed his eyes, silencing Jacob with a mere motion of his eyelids. "She found my journal on Bella's pregnancy."

I could just see Jake's eyebrows rise to his hairline. "Your what?"

"My journal, diary, notebook. Whatever you want to call it." My father finally looked at Jacob. "She found it, and she thinks badly of herself now."

"Why would you keep that somewhere where she could find it?" Jake bellowed, slamming his hand down on the desk. I flinched back, shocked by his outburst, and then I got angry.

I pushed my chair back and stood, grabbing Jacob's hand and flinging it back at him. I stood between him and my father, my eyes angrily flitting to each of them. "It doesn't matter!" I screeched, clenching my fists. It was the first time I'd ever raised my voice at either of them, and now I felt compelled to speak my mind. "It doesn't _matter_ where he hid it or whose fault it is that I found it! What _matters_ is the fact that it _happened_ and the fact that it was _me_ who did it."

The both stared at me, frightened by my outburst. I couldn't remember the last time I'd yelled except to contact someone far away in good humor. Now, with my chest heaving and rage in my chest, I considered the fact that this was who I used to be when I almost killed my mother. This was who the monster was.

Tears sprung to my eyes. "Now if you would excuse me."

I stomped back to my room, ignoring my family's questioning gazes or comforting words. As soon as I hit my door, I slammed it and put my hands to my face to catch the falling tears. All night, I ignored anyone who came knocking, anyone who entered, anyone who spoke. And in the morning, I only knew one thing:

I had to save them from myself.

**OOO**

**Wooo. Okay, then. Wow I never knew I could create such a depressed character. And in all honesty, that up to you guys if she came across as depressed or not.**

**Anyway, as some of you may or may not know, I've been off FF for like, a year. GAH! Anyway, so I lost so many of my reviewers. If any of them are reading this, I'M SORRY! I had a huge personal crisis forever—it's called a boyfriend. I don't like them. Anyway, if you're reading this I just wanted to apologize.**

**Happy Reading,**

**Jamie.**


	4. The Cure for You

_**The Diary**_

_Chapter Four__**: **__The Cure for You_

**The Cure for You—Martin Stenmarck**

**(Jake's POV) Her Diamonds—Rob Thomas**

**Couldn't pass up Jake's perspective. The song just fit too well. **

**In this chapter, there's a lot of subtle information about what's happened since the last one, so pay attention. **

**The next two chapters might end up being a little on the short side. Normally, I'd just combine them, but I have so many songs that fit these scenes just **_**perfectly**_**. Anyway, this might look like a resolution, but all I have to say is don't be too fooled.**

**OOO**

"Renesmee, sweetie?" My mother addressed me in such a loving manner that guilt rose like bile to my throat, making me want to vomit. "Sit down. We need to talk to you."

I sat. Like a good daughter, I mostly did what I was told these days in a futile attempt to redeem myself. It was the least I could do, seeing I would be leaving in a few days time, complicating things further.

In the month after my discovery, I'd put together a rather shaky escape plan. It wasn't going to be remotely easy, escaping from eight ultra-sensory vampires and two packs of werewolves, but I thought I could do it, if only for their sake. They didn't need me around to complicate their existence. Sure, when I ran away, they'd be upset, they'd look for me. And then they'd realize that it's better this way.

As I planned, I took in my known factors. I knew for a fact that it was impossible for Alice to see me—there was no way around it except to see where I wasn't, which gave me many options. I knew for a fact that I had been given an untraceable credit card for my birthday—all of the family cards were untraceable in the favor of remaining in conspicuous. I knew for a fact that Alice had evaded all of the Cullen's before, just months after my birth.

So that meant that it could be done. It was possible.

I did all of this planning when my father was either absent or too far away to hear my hyper-active mind. Because of this, I'd put all my efforts into appearing normal, unfazed by what I'd discovered.

That was why it was so surprising when my mother, my father, and Jake sat me down to talk, the rest of the family conveniently being away on an unnecessary hunting trip.

I supposed I'd missed out on some planning as well.

"Renesmee," my father began in a clear, controlled voice. He had been practicing for hours. "We've all reached a conclusion about this problem—unanimously."

That was surprising. My father and Jacob rarely agreed on anything anymore. Always fighting, I could hear them arguing from miles away, and it was always about me. About my health, about my eating habits, about my sanity, about my actions.

It was exhausting, but not because I was exhausted by their bickering. I felt for the both of them, angry with myself for bringing it to their attention. Angry at myself for causing it, like I'd caused so many other things.

Now, sitting there politely shocked, I nodded for my father to continue.

"We feel as though you're not exactly dealing with the issue at hand. Nessie, we don't want you to go around thinking these things. You're acting different from the bubbly, productive girl we all know and love. You won't let Jacob talk to you, you're ignoring the wolves, you won't help Esme cook dinner, and you aren't learning anything from Carlisle. Renesmee, you are not a bad person. You don't need to be punishing yourself."

I begged to differ. In my mind, my father's handwriting venomously leapt off of the page in bold, blood-smeared letters. I remembered every name he'd called me, every single thing I'd done. "Really?" I asked him sarcastically. "You really think so?"

My father winced, his face contorting in pain. "That was an emotion, Nessie. They are temporary."

And yet, the facts remained the same. I'd still nearly brought my mother's life to an end. I'd still broken all of her bones. I'd still entranced Jacob into a loveless romance. And I wasn't about to let myself be forgiven.

"I'm going to ignore that," my father said softly. "The fact, Renesmee, is that you are not dealing with it." He sighed. "You're wallowing. You're depressed. You're not acting the same—"

"Oh, God." The protest came from Jacob, whose scowl had been increasing in ferocity. "We all know she's not dealing with it. She knows she's not dealing with it. Cut to the chase already."

My father's eyes closed slowly, in an attempt to control his anger, as the tension swelled into the room. Even though I was not looking at Jacob anymore, I could feel the intensity of his fiery gaze as he glared at my father's hunched back. Finally, unsatisfied with Edward's lack of authority, he turned to me, sighing, his arms crossed tightly across his broad chest.

"The want to send you to Charlie," he informed me hotly. It was the first time he'd directly spoken to me in a week. "Alone."

My eyes popped open, my mouth agape. "Alone?" I repeated, my voice faint with fear. Doubt, anxiety, settled deep in my stomach. Turning to my parents' still, controlled frames, I confirmed once again, "Alone? You want to send me, a half-vampire who happens to be too strong for one human to handle, to a fragile, old human, and then keep me there while I smell his blood? Alone?"

Hearing myself say this, I felt the familiar rage bubbling in my chest, burning its way to my throat. It simmered beneath my skin, flushing it to a sunlit pink. My eyes squinted shut against the absurd proposition to murder my grandfather, and I gritted my teeth hard against each other in annoyance.

"How?" I hissed at all of them, opening and accusing them with my eyes. "How could you endanger him like that?"

"He won't be in any danger, Renesmee," my mother interjected. "If it can stand it as a newborn, I have no doubt that you can."

Jacob's eyes narrowed at me in speculation, and perhaps a tad bit of annoyance. "Besides," he began, his voice annoyed for a reason I could not place, "it's not like your diet includes fluids anymore."

He was right. Ever since I'd read the diary, I'd given up blood entirely. I couldn't remember the last time I'd even allowed myself to think about it. I'd become weaker without the blood to strength my senses and my physical build. I'd found that it was getting harder just to get up in the morning, just to walk up the stairs. My balance and grace was nowhere to be found.

Realizing this, I took a mental step backward to analyze the situation. The arrangement worked. I pictured myself flying over the giant continent of America, far away from home, and a sense of happiness came to me.

"Yes." My father smiled. "See? This is exactly what you need. A break."

The expression on my face must have been confirmation enough, because he smiled, wrapping me into a cold, iron-like hug.

And as I raised my eyes to Jacob's, I wished instantly that I could be blinded from the anguish, the pain, so clearly written on his face.

**OOO**

That night, as I sat pensively staring at the hazy moon that hung like a bright, dazzling bulb in my window, my head was filled of images. Images of me twirling through the airport, looking for any flight except the one on my ticket. I would not be going to Charlie's, which my parent's didn't know as of yet. I wouldn't be going anywhere near Forks, Washington. I wouldn't be playing cards with my grandfather every night, or cooking for him when he watched football games. And I deeply, severely wished I could. I hadn't seen Charlie in a full year, and I missed him.

But there was no way, no how, that I was going to put myself in his presence and wait for the inevitable to happen.

My parents were otherwise occupied, which was why I was in the house and they were not. I had no idea where they'd run off to, but I knew my father was not within a few miles of me, so I allowed myself to think these pain-stricken, anguish-laced thoughts that flitted through my mind like flashes of lightning in the dark, stormy night that was my troubled mind.

I jumped as there was a loud rap on my bedroom door.

The curiosity of who it could be compelled me to open it, and no later had I placed my feet down on the wood than had the door been skillfully unlocked, slammed against the wall, and I had been engulfed into a comfortably, familiarly warm hug.

Jacob.

I hugged him back without thinking, my hands pressed flush against his back, our bodies pressed together in a powerful embrace. He burrowed his face into my hair, his arms crushing my against him, and whispered painfully,

"Don't leave."

I broke away from him in a flourish, all too soon reminded of my responsibilities, of my duties. I put plenty of distance in between me and him, pressing myself up against the window.

"I have to."

Jacob wasn't aware of my secret plans—no one was—and this killed me. It burned into me from the inside out; each wave of fire was so distinct, and so equally painful, that I doubted it would ever stop. There had been a time when Jacob and I had told each other everything, but I couldn't tell him what I was planning to do now.

I was too much of a coward to face his fake, love-potioned pain, knowing it was all a lie, and knowing Jacob was not aware of his lies at all.

"No, you don't." His voice was on the borderline of hysterical, his eyes wild with fear and desperation. "You don't have to go anywhere. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it. Tell me what you want, and I'll do it for you. Only you."

The words were like acid to my ears. They were all a part of destiny's cruel joke on my life.

"You _can't_ do anything."

"Don't tell me that," he pleaded, his hands reaching into his unruly hair. "_God_, don't tell me that. There _has_ to be something."

I stared at him, at his frantic frame, in bewilderment. "Jacob, stop!"

"You can't," he pleaded again, fingers digging into his scalp. "You don't know how much it will hurt if we're thousands of miles apart. Don't you realize it hurts?"

Tears sprung to my eyes. "Stop it! Jake!"

He opened his mouth to say something else, perhaps another plea for me to remain in New Hampshire, but Alice then appeared in the doorway, taking in the scene with sad eyes. Jasper had already appeared and dragged Jacob away, attempting to calm him down before he could talk to me again.

Alice looked at me, her mouth forming a small "o" as she began to speak, but I turned away, tears running down my cheeks as I bit back the sobs.

_Oh god,_ I thought as I heard the door click shut behind me. This was going to be so much harder than I'd thought.

**OOO**

**Whooooooeeeeee. **_**That**_** was intenseeee.**

**I know. It's short. Bear with me, here.**

**It's a filler chapter, and while the next chapter isn't exactly a filler, it's going to be short as well. Why didn't I combine them? You may ask. Because it's too much information to combine in one piece, and you guys were getting impatient. **

**Expect updates once a week, for now on. Now that school's started, I'm really, REALLY busy!**

**Jamie**


	5. Say Your Last Goodbye

_**The Diary**_

_Chapter Five: Say Your Last Goodbye_

**Say Your Last Goodbye—God or Julie**

**Jacob's POV: Come Back to Me--David Cook.**

**So I'm warning you ahead of time. As is my style on FanFiction, I like to explore the characters by themselves for a while, and then I end it appropriately, depending on your idea of appropriate. Anyway, I'm saying beforehand that I will explore some very dark themes before it gets all fluffy again.**

**I've only had one reviewer who said, "I WANT NESSIE TO LEAVE!" and personally, I started laughing because never in my history of reviews (and Sunrise got quite a lot of them) have I had someone actually wanted what will eventually happen. Thank you Xrizz! I'm glad you know my style. No need to worry!**

**Okay, so here's Chappie five.**

**OOO**

The ride to the airport was blanketed by a heavy atmosphere of silence as I sat beside Jake in the back of my father's silver Mercedes-Benz, clutching the teddy bear Alice had bestowed upon me several years ago. While packing, my eyes had caught the fluff of its brown fur, stuffed into my open toy chest from when I was three. Along with the different versions of Barbie Dolls and Beanie Babies, I'd noticed its sad face staring at me with sympathy. Flashbacks immediately flooded my mind, and I _had_ to take it.

I figured it was the only thing that was going to keep me sane. This was going to be one of the hardest jobs in my life. Staying away from my family, from Jake—

"You're going to be absolutely fine, Renesmee."

My father's voice startled me, making me jump in my seat. Jacob's arm twitched, inches away from mine, always in synch with my movements.

I would miss that.

"I still don't understand why I can't go with her," Jacob muttered, glaring at the rearview mirror. "Don't you both remember what it was like when—"

Both Bella and Edward visibly flinched, their eyes screwing shut. I was befuddled, of course. It wasn't like this was a natural action for stone vampires, and I'd only seen it happen about five times in my life.

_Am I missing something?_ I asked myself, staring at the teddy bear's sad eyes. _Is their more I don't know? Is this something I did, too?_

My father's knuckles faded to the color of undeniable white on the steering wheel. "I thought we talked about this."

Jacob and I rushed to answer my father's comment simultaneously, both of us thinking he was talking to ourselves instead of the other.

Jacob growled, "No, we didn't. Every time I bring it up, you both freak out and stop listening," at the same time I said, "I'm sorry. I can't help it."

A pause as my father deciphered our words. "I was talking to Renesmee, Jacob."

Jake's head whirled to me, his eyes boring into my scalp. I didn't dare look at him, didn't dare to evaluate his expression. "What were you thinking?" he demanded sullenly, his fingertips brushing my arm.

I flinched away from the contact, which made my father swerve the car. Another thing that didn't happen often.

"Jacob," he warned.

Jacob's mood changed instantly, from comforting to furious. "She's my _imprint_," he snarled at my father. "Forgive me if for once in my life, I didn't know what to do."

I closed my eyes, trying to block my ears from the argument. I was sick of always feeling guilty for everything I was doing, but at the same time, I was well aware that I deserved every bit of it. If it weren't for me, my father and Jake would still be on good terms.

"Renesmee," my father said again.

His harsh tone made me my eyes sting, and my hands left the bear's body and flew to my face. My nails gently scraped the surface of my cherry cheeks before curling in on my palms, the keratin digging into my flesh.

"Jacob, stop her."

Hurting myself in little ways had been a frighteningly reoccurring habit lately. At first, it was just scratching, even though I didn't itch. The burn from the friction was pleasant, if only for a moment. I would only take a few swipes, telling myself it was something I needed, something I deserved, once again. And then the more frenzy-like clawing started, and that's when my father noticed. He confronted me about it, and he ultimately wrestled the truth out of me, to his horror.

So I let Jacob pry my hands apart, and firmly press them into my lap. I bit my check instead, ashamed of my actions in front of my family. _Why did I do that? I shouldn't have done it. They don't need anymore complications from me_.

My father sighed loudly, his gold eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

"Renesmee, we love you." His gaze was earnest as he said this, but the words were empty to me. "No matter what you do."

I shut off my emotions at this comment, not wanting to be reminded of how unjustified their affection was. I stared down blankly at the face of the bear once again, wishing Alice was there. She always knew exactly what to say.

My extended family hadn't accompanied us on this little field-trip, and I was glad. To an extent. The less goodbyes I had to make at the scene of the crime, the better. I didn't want them all burned with this memory in their minds.

I hadn't wanted Jacob to come, either, knowing the spectacle that could be made. He would howl and beg for me not to go. And who knew? Maybe he would turn into a werewolf as well, and then everybody would have to die. Another result of my annoying ability to make everything wrong.

Maybe the power I had now was just a diversion. Maybe my real power was one of destruction, of hurt and pain. I couldn't help the thought from flitting across my consciousness, and I couldn't help the way the polished steering wheel whined under my father's grasp.

"Edward," Bella murmured softly.

Jacob slumped into his seat, huffing. Although I had desperately felt the need to itch, to scratch, I kept my hands firmly where they were.

"Her thoughts," my father said to my mother, almost too low for me to hear. "You should hear them." His eyes narrowed. "On second thought, you probably shouldn't if they pain you half as much as they do me."

I closed my eyes again, spelling long words in my head. I wanted to keep myself busy.

"Edward," she repeated, annoyance in her tone this time. Annoyance! As if I was deserving of her standing up for me. My fists clenched angrily around each other, my fingers twisting and constricting, my mind burning behind my lids. "She isn't thinking any different than we did when we were first in love."

"Spare me the details," spat Jacob. It was one of the only times I'd heard him snarl at my mother.

She ignored him except for a quick glare. "We always thought we were unworthy of each other. How is she so different? She has a more justified reason than we ever did."

_Justified_. So it was confirmed. I _was_ a monster.

"Wrong thing to say, Bella."

A sigh escaped her nose. "She knows what I meant."

I did, deep down inside, past the guilt and pain and anger. But I wouldn't admit that to myself. I didn't want her to love me. It was so painful, knowing all these people I'd hurt who still cared about me. I didn't want it. I didn't earn that.

My father eventually stopped calling me out on my mental escapades as we drove deeper and deeper into the night. He looked straight ahead, my mother no doubt blocking him from my plaguing thoughts.

As we neared the airport, Jake's hand sought mine in the shadows.

**OOO**

"So this is it."

Jacob hadn't said a word since we'd arrived at the enormous white building with planes along its side. He'd only nodded, frowned, and shaken his head. But now, as we stood face to face at the terminal, he was finally talking.

I almost wished he hadn't. It was impossible to deal with his pain. His fake, magic-related pain.

When we'd arrived, the security had made it clear that I wasn't allowed to be accompanied by more than one person. Despite my parents attempts to dazzle them, they were far too professional to fall for such a tactic, and it had been decided that it would be best if Jake was the one to follow me.

Secretly, I was brimming with relief. This made it so much easier.

A few long hugs and forehead kisses and strangled cries of "I'll miss you" ensued before my father explained that my mother should let go of me or I'd never catch my plane. She obliged, slowly, mumbling, "That's the idea."

This pained me as well. They weren't controlled by some unseen force to love me. They hadn't been forced to. And what I was about to do to them would make them feel horrible for years, if not decades. But after that, after I was safely out of their lives, after I was nothing more than a memory, they would find a free, untainted happiness.

It was all I could hope for.

"Yeah," I said now, my eyes stinging. "I guess."

With more composure than that fateful night weeks ago, Jake added, "You really don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Renesmee."

It surprised me how often he was right, but now wasn't one of those times. Still, I felt as though he was speaking the truth, if only for a moment. And then I remembered the heavy alternative ticket in my purse.

"I want to," I argued softly, and a flash of hurt crossed Jake's face. "I didn't mean it like that," I patched up hastily. "It's just, if this is what most of you want—"

"Don't lump me in with them," he muttered. "I don't want you to do anything. I'd rather you stay here. With me. We could go off together, alone. Just the two of us."

"But everybody else wants it."

"So?" he growled.

"Jake."

He fell silent, waiting for my ultimatum.

"I haven't seen Charlie in a year," I reminded him, taking his warm hands in mine. "I want to see him. I need to spend some quality time with him. It'll kill me to be away from you—"

"So let me come with you," he whispered. Our faces were inches apart suddenly.

"I can't—you heard Dad—"

He captured my chin in my hands. "Let me kiss you, please. And then tell me that you don't want me to come."

"Jake—"

I should have realized his pushy nature would interfere with my plans. As soon as his lips touched mine, I felt myself forget why I was running away in the first place, every inkling of my being fading into the distance.

His lips were warm, and wet, against mine. It was a feverish kind of kiss, a kiss that was filled with all the emotions I'd been feeling lately—anger, pain, hurt, guilt, anxiety. And even though I was well aware that this wasn't real, that he wasn't really feeling this way, that the real Jake had been trapped inside the imprintee's body for seven years, still in love with my mother, I couldn't break away. I was fooling myself, allowing myself to feel passion just one last time before I left for good.

Our lips parted, and he laid his warm forehead against mine, his eyes closed. "Please, Renesmee?"

My nails dug into my palms again, reminding me of what I had to do.

"No," I said at last. "I need to do this alone."

His strong hands gripped me tighter, his chest heaving. "Don't leave me."

"I'm not leaving you," I lied soothingly. "It's only a month."

"Thirty-one days without you, Renesmee? That's torture." His voice was cracking, and I knew if I didn't do something soon, he'd crack. "Please, I love you."

"I love you, too, Jake." This wasn't a lie. "I love you so much it hurts. But I have to do this. Then, we can be happy together."

"I can make you happy. I'll do anything. Just don't leave. God, please don't leave me here."

My chest was constricting. What had I started? Why did I open that damn diary anyway? Now, my family was broken apart, practically bleeding with the effort to "fix" what I'd unraveled. And now this.

If the streets of America didn't do it, I would kill myself.

"Jake. I love you. I love you so much." I drew a deep breath. "But I'm going to miss my flight. I need to go."

He finally opened his eyes. "Right."

"Jake, please don't do this."

"I just needed to try," he explained brokenly, his eyes drifting closed, as though it was too much of an effort to keep them open. "But you need to catch your plane. Right. I just want you to know I love you."

"I know," I lied again, forcing a weak smile onto my face. "I love you, too. I'll call you, okay?"

Another lie, but it was what he needed to hear.

It worked; he smiled. "Okay."

There was a quick peck on my forehead, and then my lips. And then he turned to walk away, going to comfort my parents, as we'd discussed. They wouldn't wait for me to board the plane—they didn't want Jacob to make a scene in public, perhaps killing everybody.

"I love you!" he called at me, a sad smile gracing his lips.

I tried to beam at him. "I love you!" I called as well, lifting my hand in a wave.

And then he was waiting in line for the monorail to bring him back to Bella and Edward, and then he disappeared. And then the doors behind him closed.

"I love you," I whispered to nobody, tears pricking my eyes. "More."

**OOO**

As the Mercedes sped along the highway, Edward wondered why Jacob hadn't absolutely lost it yet. Due to an unfortunate accident along the road, they'd made it back to New Hampshire in significantly less than record time, and Renesmee's flight should have left by then. The man either had extremely strong composure, or Nessie's flight had been delayed, because from what Edward knew, he was supposed to have been going completely berserk.

"You look worried." Bella hadn't realized that there was a problem with the way the events were unfolding yet. She couldn't see inside Jacob's mind. She wouldn't know.

"I am," Edward responded lowly, his eyes on the boy in the backseat. "He's taking this rather well."

"Maybe he expected it," suggested Bella wryly. It was her answer for anything _unexpected_ since her Newborn days.

Edward was unsure. While the drive back shouldn't have been too difficult for Jacob to handle, once Nessie's flight hit the sky, he should have been writhing in the pain that would result from his beloved imprint getting shot miles and miles into the sky.

So why wasn't he reacting?

Edward sped home faster, an uneasy incline to his brow. He had a feeling that this couldn't be good.

**OOO**

"Hi," I said to the nearest employee. "I think I'm in the wrong terminal. Could you show me the way?"

**OOO**

**Wow that was fun. Intense, but fun. Yeah, sorry it's short! I know, not fun! But I have homework you know! Oodles and oodles of it. **

**So the next update will probably be Friday! **

**See you then!**

**Jamie.**


	6. The Unwinding Cable Car

_**The Diary**_

_Chapter 6: The Unwinding Cable Car_

**The Unwinding Cable Car--Anberlin**

**Sorry again that it's been so long. There's a reason you reviewers like this story—and it's** **because I take forever to figure out the right song and how best to write, and then I have to check for errors. Besides, English is a bitch this year, so I'm dealing with that.**

**Also, this chapter isn't that great. For some reason, I had issues wit Nessie's character and didn't quite get every emotion. I apologize.**

**Anyway, here's Chapter 6.**

**OOO**

They were sitting at home, the three of them. Bella and Edward were watching Jacob, who hadn't moved in the past hour or so. _At least he's reacting_, thought Edward uncomfortably. _Or lack, thereof_. It was difficult for him to watch Jacob's pain, so easily displayed on his face, because it reminded him so much of his own. So long ago, it seemed. Bella was facing the same issue, and she couldn't stare at her best friend for too long without wanting to scream.

It was a welcoming relief when the shrill, clear sound of a ringing phone cut through the silence. Bella's phone. She stood, much too quickly for any human, and grabbed her cell before the first ring had ended.

"Hello?" There was a pause in which Bella's face lit up, as if the sun was shining from the opposite wall. "Dad, hey!" This caused both Edward and Jacob to glance up, the most movement either of them had made in the past few minutes. "Did Renesmee get in okay?"

In the silence that followed, it was evident that something had gone horribly wrong. It took less than a second for Edward to piece it together, to realize Charlie Swan's silence meant that his daughter was nowhere near the Seattle airport.

"Dad?" Bella repeated nervously, something odd to hear in a vampire's tone. She glanced anxiously at Edward. "Dad, where's Nessie?"

There was another pause, this time briefer, before he answered. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like, "She never showed up."

Edward ripped the phone from Bella's hands in a heartbeat, pressing it against his ear with nearly enough force to crush it. Jacob was staring at the angry vampire in confusion, his brain working slowly through the unbearable pain he was feeling. At the moment, he was trying to remember the last time he'd seen Edward react like this.

"What do you mean she _never showed up_?" Edward snarled into the phone. "Where _is_ she?"

Charlie's panicked voice could be heard, fumbling, through the static receiver. "I don't know if it's just because I didn't recognize her, because she's grown up so much, or if she just hasn't gotten off the plane yet." _No, and no_, Edward decided without patience. Her flight should have landed an hour ago, and she didn't look _that_ different. It was impossible to miss somebody like Renesmee. "But she isn't here now."

Jacob's face drained of color just as the full realization hit Edward. Renesmee hadn't just refused to go on the plane to Forks; she'd run away from everything, from everyone. He'd even _helped_ her, stupidly, get to the airport, had suggested everyone give her _space_. As a mind reader—no, as her _father_—he should have seen this coming.

Alice couldn't see her. Jacob couldn't feel her. Edward had absolutely no idea about where to start looking.

Meanwhile, I was at the International Airport of Phoenix, Arizona, plotting my next move.

**OOO**

The plane had been almost more than I could handle.

I'd never flown before, except when leaping from trees. That was the only thing I'd ever been able to compare it to, and the few hours, confined in a small place between two elderly ladies, had not been pleasant. The scent of blood mixed with sweat and children, had not been ideal, either.

Now, standing in the middle of baggage claim, I found myself wondering what I was doing there. I'd only brought my backpack, not wanting to carry too much with me, or check my bags to the wrong place. I didn't want to cause the airport more trouble than I already had. Besides, I had passed my lack of luggage off as this: I would steal clothes from my mother's closet in Forks.

I realized, as a man retrieved a heavy, black suitcase from the conveyor belt, that I had merely followed the crowd, doing what I thought was accepted in airports. But the truth was, I didn't need to be here.

I stepped away from the gathered crowd, glancing at the doorway. I didn't need a car. I didn't need a bag. I was good to go.

It was as I began to head for the doors that a taxi driver began to call out.

"Pretty lady, let me drive you around!"

I whirled to face the insult, but the man hadn't been talking to me. _Just as well_, I murmured to myself. I was wearing a hat, my curls flattened against my head. I doubted I looked attractive at all, and that was exactly what I was aiming for.

I walked into the bright sunlight, feeling no warmth from its rays. I felt robbed, then, staring down on the vivid, littered sidewalk. Why couldn't I feel the sun? Oh, right. I was a monster. Monsters didn't get privileges. How could I possibly be so blind?

I mused as I walked, unable to take in my surroundings. I felt as though I was detached from myself, like part of me wasn't here, walking with me. It felt far away, beyond the reaches of my body. Like someone else was holding it.

Jacob, I thought immediately, my thoughts shifting to that wonderful last kiss. I was determined to remember every tiny detail about the exchange, sure it would be the last I would ever remember of Jacob. I had no intentions of ever seeing him again.

This knowledge almost caused me to cry, but before I could dwell on it, I almost walked into a scuffle on the street. I backtracked, taking in my surroundings before acting. They hadn't noticed me yet, I realized, watching warily.

There were three young men, all of them dressed in leather jackets. Absurd, I thought. It had to be in the ninety degree area, scorching, and they were wearing black leather. All of their faces were contorted in an ugly sneer, their lips curled meanly over their yellow teeth, their eyes narrowed into slits.

And then my gaze fell on their victim, a brave, young blonde girl, shorter than me. She wore an oversized, purple jacket that fell to mid-thigh, over her sunny yellow shirt and black jeans. I didn't bother taking in her shoes, but I had the strange feeling they matched some part of her outfit.

It took me longer than it should have to piece the situation together. A team of guys, all dressed alike, ready to pounce—a gang. A blonde girl, extremely pretty, and looking defenseless—their victim, an _actual_ victim.

A pang speared me in the chest. No way, I thought. Not a chance I'm letting this happen.

Sometime while I was walking, the sun had begun to set. Yet, it wasn't completely behind the city's tall buildings, and I was feeling brave.

"Hey," I called. "Pick on someone your own size."

It wasn't what I'd call original, but the girl shot me a smile of gratitude before adding, "Not that it'd be easy. I don't know a single person as fat as all of you."

"Mind your own business before I _make_ it your business," the leader snarled at me. "And you," he growled, pointing at the girl. "Fucking quit it."

I had never heard that word before—never in my entire life. I had no idea what it meant, but the way this man said it sent chills down my spine, rising my hair on end, making me want to run. I got the feeling that this word wasn't just bad, such as damn or hell. It was horrible, sick and vile, used for negative connotations only. You couldn't be kidding and say this word at the same time.

I had half a nerve to ask what it meant, but the new fear that was coursing through me put a stop to that. And then I remembered who I was. I was Renesmee Cullen, daughter of a vampire.

I waltzed right up to the guy, poked him in the chest, and growled, "Leave. _Now_."

It startled myself with my courage, and he looked surprised too. He took a step back, just barely, before he realized he was letting a small girl push him around. "Back the fuck _off_," he hissed, pushing me backwards, into the blonde girl.

"Daryl!" she yelled as we collided. "Cut it out. Why are you such a freaking psychopath!"

"Go out with me, Hensley."

"No!" Her tone was exasperated, as if this had happened uncountable times, and she let go of me to wave her arms around. "Now _you_ back the hell off before _I_ make you back off."

As I straightened myself up, I had the feeling that he only listened because a guy came out of his apartment, descending the stairs as quickly as possible. "Not this again!" he yelled at us, waving a rolled-up paper around. "Get out of the sidewalk; scram!"

I stared, shocked. Already, I was beyond confusion about humans and their strange behavior. I hated it, so far. They were all insensitive, completely relying on these tools called bravado and threats. I hoped that I was in the bad section of town, because if this was the bright side of Phoenix, then it had some serious problems.

As the three boys backed away and turned their backs, I took the stoop-man's advice and scrammed. I walked away, back down the sidewalk, shaking my head and grimacing.

"Hey!" said the girl called Hensley. "New kid! Wait a second!"

I didn't _want_ to wait. Couldn't she see that? Already, I was fed up with shallow humans, and my parents had wanted to send me to _school_? I couldn't imagine sitting through this _and_ classes that I already knew in several languages. So, I kept walking, not paying attention to her as she followed me down the streets, all the while calling out to me.

"Hello!" she yelled as I picked up the pace. "Aren't you going to let me thank you?"

I gathered a deep breath in through my nose, scowling. What in the world had I gotten myself into?

"Please?" she tried again, her footsteps loud and clumsy.

Finally, I stopped, because I had no idea how else I was going to get rid of her. She was persistent, obviously, and I had the bizarre feeling that she wasn't going to leave me alone anytime soon.

"Yes?" I asked when she was within hearing distance.

This startled her as well, and her steps faltered for half a second. "I just wanted to propose an offer," she told me as she approached. "You know, for saving my life and everything."

Saving her life? Hardly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Those guys are jerks. You deserve a thank you."

That woke me up. I didn't deserve anything. "That's okay," I said lightly, hoping to God it would change her mind.

"Well, no. Not really. Want to come—"

"You've thanked me," I reminded her icily, changing tactics. "It's okay."

She was confused, and she pushed the blonde bangs from her eyes to get a better look at me. "Wow, you're pretty."

_Great_, I thought. I had hoped with the hat that no one would notice. "Thank you," I told her. "But, I—"

"Please?" she asked finally. "Please, just let me give you a big thanks, okay? Come with me to this club downtown. I'll pay for the drinks."

Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I remembered what Jacob had said about clubs—how people got "wasted," completely beyond coherency, and they drank their lives away and did nasty, stupid things. Alarms went off in my mind.

"That's all right," I told her hastily, taking a step backwards. "I don't go clubbing."

"Never?" she gasped in disbelief. "Oh, then you absolutely _have_ to go."

"I have plans," I said, rather lamely. _Plans_, I repeated to myself in distaste. _Right_.

This Hensley girl finally got it. She glanced away from my face and nodded, whistling. "Okay," she said before reaching into her purse. "Well, if you change your mind and want to be friends, call me here."

I took the piece of paper from her to be polite, all the while trying not to make contact with her skin. I didn't plan on using the number at all. Friends were for people who could risk hanging around others. Friends were for good people, not monsters like me. Not for monsters who killed their own mothers.

She waved an unnecessarily gloved hand and turned, walking back to what I assumed was her apartment complex. As soon as her back was turned, I crumpled the piece of yellow notebook paper in my hand, stuffed it into my pocket, and ran.

**OOO**

"Alert every police station in America," Charlie Swan was ordering into the phone as he paced the kitchen. "Alert them that there's a runaway, my granddaughter—"

"Sir," the other man was saying into the phone. "Sir, calm down."

This only made Charlie's face redder with rage. "Oh, I'll calm down when I want to calm down. I'm the Sheriff in Forks, Washington, and I'm above you, pipsqueak. Now get me your supervisor on the damn phone."

"Right away, Sir," the man said, clearly fazed by Charlie's yells, and stunned by his status. "One moment, Sir."

"One moment," grumbled Charlie as elevator music filled his ears, and Sue stared at him anxiously. "Better be one moment."

Indeed, it was. Only a few seconds later did the supervisor pick up the phone, asking how he could be of service.

"My granddaughter ran away today," said Charlie, trying to be calmer. "I need the police to be aware, to be on the lookout, in case someone sees her."

"Excuse me, but how would I go about doing that?"

"Fax them," suggested Charlie in a tone that obviously implied the man was an idiot. "I'll fax you the picture, the information. And then you're going to alert every damn police station in the United States. You hear?"

"Absolutely, Chief Swan." There was a renewed form of determination in his tone. "Don't waste another minute."

**OOO**

The train station was loud. Loud and busy as I sat on one of the benches, obscured by bushes. "Plans," I repeated to myself for the hundredth time, wondering once again if I should have taken the girl up on her offer.

What would a girl like me have plans for? Sitting by train tracks in the dead of night? So it seemed. Hunting was out of the question—I'd never been without someone to watch me, and even so, I'd cut blood off my diet. I didn't have a boyfriend to snuggle up with in the dark. I didn't have any friends.

Thinking of Jacob made me wonder if they'd found out yet. Had they gotten over me yet? Had they realized I was right? Had my spell on Jacob been distinguished, like I'd hoped?

They were so much better off without me, the ever-present pest, in their lives. A tear slid down my check at this knowledge, and I hastily wiped it away. "You're fine," I mumbled to myself as the train roared past. "You're fine."

That earned me a few looks from passerby, but I ignored it.

The longer I sat there, the more unbearable the pain became. Images flashed before my eyes of Jacob's face, if he still even loved me, contorted in pain when he realized what I done. At least that was what my Jacob would look like. And I didn't even want to start worrying about my mother and father.

More tears came out. In fact, they erupted. I sat there, crying my eyes out, and many people stopped to ask me if I was okay.

_No_, I thought. I wasn't okay.

_That damn diary!_ I thought, outraged. Why had I ever opened it? Why had I been so stupid? Why?

I found myself suddenly thinking of clubbing, giving away my cares. I wanted to get drunk, badly.

_It's a bad idea_, a voice in my head said. It sounded like all of my family's voices meshed together. _You could slip up. You could kill someone_.

I didn't even care anymore. I was a monster, already, right? Why shouldn't I give in?

I withdrew the crumpled, yellow paper from my pocket.

_Call me!_ Hensley had written.

Oh, I planned on it.

**OOO**

"J.?" Bella murmured into the phone, trying to stay calm. "J. Jenks? It's Bella Cullen. I need a favor."

**OOO**

**Whoo. What could Bella possibly want from J.? Why would Renesmee go partying after she's been trying so hard to be good? Who is Charlie talking to?**

**Sorry if it's a little trashy, this chapter. I was busy writing an oral all weekend and I did this a little fast. Sorry!**

**Jamie.**


	7. Welcome to the World

_**The Diary**_

_Chapter Seven: Welcome to the World_

**Welcome to the World—Kevin Rudolf**

**Oh, by the way, I'm going to be editing Jacob's song choice for Chapter Five. Bye Bye Beautiful by Nightwish will fit in later . . . and besides, it seemed to harsh for the exchange. So, it's going to be changed to "Come Back to Me" by David Cook. I heard it on the radio today and instantly remembered I put it on my iPod months ago. It works.**

**OOO**

I was starting to realize that it took a lot to get a mythical creature drunk.

Staring at the glass in my hand, about the seventh or eighth one, it occurred to me that I could possibly be immune to the effects of alcohol. It wouldn't be the first time it was mentioned. I didn't ever recall hearing of Sam or Embry or Quil drunk, and Jacob didn't do beer.

Still, I stared furiously at the empty shot-glass, willing it to buzz my brain.

"Wow," said Hensley. "When I said I was going to pay for the drinks, I didn't think you'd down all of _this_."

I barely acknowledged her in my state of rage. Why wasn't this working? I was supposed to be drunk out of my mind right now. I was supposed to not be aware of where I was or what I was doing. I was supposed to be giggling on the floor.

But I wasn't.

When I'd arrived at Hensley's house, like she'd asked, she'd taken one look at me and decided that all I was in need of was a good hair-brushing and a barrette. For herself, however, she took about and hour. She played this way with her hair, tugged that way at her outfit, smudged her make-up just so . . . . My annoyance level had shot through the roof about thirty minutes after she'd started. I wanted to stop _thinking_, already.

And then we'd arrived here, a secret underage club in the worst possible part of town, and I found myself ignoring the disorienting alarms in my head, once again. Instead, I'd gotten in line, tapped my foot, and waited.

And here I was. I hadn't moved in the past two hours, except for my mouth and hand. I just sat there, drinking away my life like some loner.

"I'll pay for the drinks," I growled at her, still glaring at my glass. "You can relax."

Her pretty face was suddenly wary. "I was just kidding," she said, her trimmed eyebrows raising. "But if you want to pay, by all means, be my guest."

She sounded so much like Leah Clearwater that it made my head hurt. Pathetically, I laid my head on the bar, trying to ignore the pounding music.

"All right," announced Hensley/Leah, finally. "Liven up a little. Let's dance."

"One more drink," I choked out, determined. She saw my face and instantly gave up the battle, moving away a few chairs.

The bartender shook my drink, a smile on his face. "Now this," he told me smugly, a wicked grin on his face, "is guaranteed to fuck you over."

That word again, my mind registered numbly. I'd heard it countless times since I'd arrived, and I still had no idea what it meant.

My shot glass was filled.

Smiling, I raised it to my lips.

And _bang_, did it hit.

**OOO**

"Bella?" called Edward anxiously. "What in the world did you contact J. Jenks for?"

She looked up from the papers on her desk, which were scattered in alarming disarray. "I just wanted to see if he had any leads on a girl named Vanessa Wolfe," she murmured delicately, her face crumpling. "But he doesn't. He said if she'd used her fake ID, he'd know."

_She is much too smart to do that_, thought Edward glumly. These past few hours had been some of the most torturous, painful ones of his life, and realizing that he could do nothing hadn't been much help.

"What do you mean, she's _missing_?" Rosalie and Alice had hissed in unison, eyes livid, wide with rage. "She can't possibly just run off by herself," Rosalie had continued, her fists clenched. "Didn't you see her onto the plane?"

"That's my fault," Jacob allowed. They were some of the first words he'd said since their discovery. "I left her so I wouldn't have to watch her leave. It was a selfish choice, but at the time I didn't think it would do much harm, if any."

Rosalie was too frightened to say anything derogatory, and she merely stared at the pain stricken boy in sympathy. A first for her.

Emmett said, "Where do we start?" as Emse tearlessly sobbed, leaning on Carlisle in the corner.

Jasper had spoken up then, his expression calculating. "We start," he began, his military charisma coming through, "by going to every one of our houses. We may not find anything, but we have to start somewhere. Jacob, you go to Forks; I'm sure Sam will be happy to hear from you, and if you can, get them searching for Renesmee as well. Alice, you and I will go to London . . ."

**OOO**

"I can't believe I've never been dancing like this before!" I shouted over the roar of music and people, my hips jutting side to side. I laughed as my hair bounced around my face, obscuring my vision of Hensley's face, but I could hear her perfectly fine.

"Me neither. You're _so_ good at it—like a natural."

I refused to acknowledge this at all, because it was too painful to be reminded of my glory days in the Cullen household.

I wasn't drunk, I thought as the song changed. Merely buzzed. But still, it was as if my memories were suppressed. Why, I found myself wondering, lifting my arms above my head, was I in Arizona anyway? Maybe I was getting bolder. Had my dad paid for this trip? Obviously. Where was Jacob?

It hit me like a tidal wave, every now and then. I would remember, as soon as Jacob's name hit my consciousness, that I'd run away. And then I would stop dancing, because what was the point if I couldn't show off for anybody?

It was like a vicious cycle. A skipping record. A song stuck on repeat.

"Why'd you stop?" asked Hensley, for about the fiftieth time that night. She brushed her hair from her eyes and stared at me, trying to stay on her feet. Alcohol and clumsy people didn't mix.

"I want to go home," I said.

"What?"

I sighed. "I want to go home."

She made the motion of a deaf person, staring at me in confusion. "I can't hear you," she mouthed.

"I want to go home!" I shouted.

She understood this time. Pulling back with a resigned and disappointed expression, she nodded and pushed her way out of the throng of people. I got the vague feeling that she liked to party a lot, and when she did, it wasn't just for a short time. But I couldn't keep it up. It had been fun for a moment or two, but I was tired and ashamed now.

I had said I wanted to go home. Where was that?

My thoughts flitted across my consciousness without much form or sense. I saw mere images, little blips of my life before this incident. And I followed Hensley out of the club in a daze.

"Crap," she muttered once the sound had faded behind us. "Oh, fucking hell."

_That word again_, I thought vaguely. It was going to become part of my vocabulary if I wasn't careful.

"What?" I asked her, although I didn't care.

She turned to me, pushing the ragged blonde bangs from her eyes. "I'm glad you wanted to leave." She paused to curse again. "My curfew is in twenty minutes. I'll never make it back to my apartment in time. They lock the doors at one."

"They don't let you in?"

"No."

Somehow, this didn't seem like such a big deal to me. I could always break her in if she needed me to, or I could just run her back.

_What are you thinking?_ growled my more reasonable self. _You can't do that, that's against the law_.

_What law?_ I wondered.

_The laws by the guys with the capes_.

I shuddered at my revelation, and settled for something more acceptable. "I can get you back on time."

"You can?"

I nodded.

**OOO**

"Hey, Charlie."

The aging sheriff turned to look at the figure in his doorway, his eyebrows shooting up. "Hey, Jake." He mumbled, "You look . . . exactly the same."

A pain laugh ripped from the boy's chest. "Yeah," he agreed, clearing his throat. "Any word on Ness?"

Charlie shook his head, sighing. "None."

"I checked the Cullen's house, but she wasn't there. I thought maybe she may have at least come there before taking off again. I even went to the Seattle airport to see if she went through, but her scent wasn't there."

Charlie's eyes bugged. "Jake, I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk so normally about how people smell."

"Sorry."

"Where're the rest of the Cullen's?"

"Checking other places. My guess is they haven't had much luck."

Charlie didn't take this in good stride. His shoulders shook and he wiped a tear from his watering eye.

"Hey, Sheriff, what's wrong?"

It was a stupid question—Jake was well aware of that, but he had a feeling that there was more to what Charlie was feeling then he let on.

"It's just," said Charlie, his voice shaking, "I deal with things like this in my job. I hear about these things all the time. I never anticipated it would happen to this family, to Renesmee. I feel like I should have been able to prevent it."

Jacob stood there, awkward, trying to decide how to respond. He wasn't used to Charlie and his emotional baggage. "It's not your fault," he muttered, almost intelligibly, and then gained speed: "Charlie, this was her decision. I'd like to blame someone for it"—Edward, he added silently—"but Renesmee was the one who planned it. Nobody saw it coming. Not even Edward."

"What do you mean, not even Edward?"

Jacob gulped. _Need to know_, Charlie had said once upon a time. So he lied. "Because he's her dad. But hey, I need to get down to La Push and see Sam. You gonna be okay?"

Charlie nodded, the action seeming heavy. "Yeah," he said. "I think we'll all be fine."

**OOO**

There was no subway in Phoenix, which I hadn't anticipated. Still, it wasn't difficult to hail a taxi with my beauty, which I was pleased with at the moment. I was giddy, overconfident, when we were a block away from her apartment.

"Hey," I said, my cockiness shining through my words, "why don't we just cut through here?"

She hesitated, staring at the alley that I'd suggested. "I don't think that's a good idea."

I peered down into the black, but I didn't see anything. I sensed no danger. "Why not?"

"It's just—you're not supposed to walk in dark alleys at night."

I smiled at her. "What if I told you I have really great night vision?" I tried.

She was still not interested. "I don't know."

"Why go around the entire block when we could make it to your apartment in thirty seconds?" I asked. "You only have so much time."

With a sigh, she consented, following me into the darkness. I was light on my feet, happy with the way the night had turned out. I was starting to like alcohol, the way it took the edge off of your depression. I had a feeling I'd be staying here for a while.

And then, out of nowhere, Hensley screamed and a rough, heavy hand fell on my shoulder. I was lifted off the ground and slammed into the nearest convenient wall. Pain erupted in my side.

"Ness?" Hensley screeched.

When the hand stopped applying pressure, I slid down the wall to the dirty, grimy floor, my head still reeling. What had just happened.

And then I opened my eyes and saw beady black ones, peering down at me angrily. Daryl.

"Hey, pretty lady. Who knew you looked so pretty without that hat?"

His tone sent tremors down my spine, making me want to retch. The cockiness I'd been experiencing earlier had vanished, and I was definitely sober.

"So," he continued, grabbing a lock of my hair and yanking, "since you rid us of our fun this afternoon, I think it's time for a little payback."

My eyes went wide.

"We're gonna fuck you over, sweetheart," he snarled in my face. "Just you wait."

**OOO**

**Ehhh.**

**So….. yeah…. Don't really know what to write down here. **

**Jamie.**


	8. Whispers In the Dark

_**The Diary**_

_Chapter 8: Whispers In the Dark_

**Whispers in the Dark—Skillet.**

**(I'm not trying to "bring you to Christ" by using a Christian song. I don't believe in converting people, but that's just me. You can see it however you want to. I personally used it because the lyrics kind of reminded me of hysteria in a dark moment. But, again, that's just me. So I don't want any reviews saying stuff like, "You did the right thing!" or, "I can't believe you're showing your beliefs . . . blah blah blah." Because, really, it's just a song. That's all.)**

**Also, I'm sorry I was MIA for…. Idk how long it was. The thing is I'm working on my own stories, and this one wasn't as important to me. I sincerely apologize for making you wait with a cliffie.**

**So, anyway, here's Chapter 8.**

**OOO**

I wasn't prepared for this.

_For crying out loud!_ I thought as I stared, panicking, into his beady black eyes. I was just seven years old. It didn't matter now that I knew six languages. It didn't matter that I could do pages worth of statistics in my head. It didn't matter that I knew all the scientific names for every animal.

I was going to die.

"Leave Hensley for me," ordered Daryl, smiling a sick smile. "I want to save the best for last."

Even though the blood that had leaked onto my face was drying, and I could feel the walls of the cut of my forehead stitching themselves up, my gut had sunk to the pit of my stomach. I tasted that faint trace of metal in my mouth as Daryl's grip on my shoulder got tighter.

What was I supposed to do? Kill him?

I wasn't about to be more of a monster than I already was. I should take whatever punishment he was going to give me and be thankful. Maybe I could go home after that. Maybe, after I'd been tortured, I'd be cleansed. Maybe I would finally be able to go back.

Unless I died first.

Daryl's hand slowly reached back and then slammed forward, smacking my check hard, causing my head to whip around to hit the wall.

I stifled a moan of pain. Rock did not feel nice against bone, and something warm was sliding down my neck. Blood.

He hit me again, and again, and again. I lost count of the times his sweaty palm hit my face. It occurred to me that Rosalie had probably endured much worse, and that I should be grateful for a beating so timid compared to hers.

But the pain was so much.

Finally, I unclenched my teeth and whimpered, feebly raising my hands to cover my head. He liked that—that I whimpered.

"Good, good," he laughed manically. "I'm glad to get a reaction out of you. Sex is no fun unless you whine."

My eyes flew open. Sex?

"Yes," he answered my expression. "Don't you know what fuck means? I thought I was being pretty clear, myself."

I gulped. It was no lie or secret that I was a virgin. Jake and I had never done anything near making love—I was seven! And here I was, being beaten up by some angsty teenager who wanted to get laid.

_Take your punishment and embrace it,_ whispered the more noble part of me.

Well, the Cullen part of me was angry. Who was I? Renesmee Cullen. Who taught me how to fight? Jasper, youngest officer in the civil war. Who taught me how to use common sense? Jake had taken it upon himself when I was a year old.

So what the hell was I doing, sitting here and taking this?

I clenched my teeth as his hand reared back again.

"Don't. Touch. Me," I hissed through my teeth, glaring.

He paused, surprised. "Resistant, are you? Fiery?" he asked, and the others laughed.

_Close_, I thought as he smirked and snapped his hand forward again. But it never hit my face. Before he got within a foot of it, my hand panned out and closed around his bulky one. My fingers tightened, and he let out a shriek of pain. The others stopped laughing.

"I said," I repeated, standing up, "_don't touch me._"

At first, I refused to remember how completely weak I was from the lack of blood in my diet, but it soon became apparent. He finally got over his surprise and shoved me back against the brick, making my head hit the wall harder. Blood trickled down my face.

I actually saw stars.

He held me there while I recovered, but the process was slow. I was gritting my teeth, trying to come up with a more secretive way to get out.

Before I could do so, though, the worst thing of my travels happened to me.

His free hand, the one that wasn't crushing my neck, snaked across my thigh, then higher, unbuttoning, touching me in the last place I wanted to be touched. My eyes popped open wide, the scream stuck, lodged in my throat, as his fingers violated me.

Fear exploded behind my eyes. _Go away_, I told myself. _Retreat_. And my mind became a refuge from the awful reality.

"Do you like that?" he said gruffly.

No. Not at _all_.

But he kept talking, fueling my anger. Fueling my desire to see his blood on the grimy ground.

"So soft, so warm," he hissed in my ear. I gritted my teeth.

And then I realized I was not about to sit back, and let this happen to both me and the innocent girl being held back. I was not going to end up like Rosalie. I was not going to go quietly. Not me.

My head was suddenly so much clearer. Fueled by pure, animalistic rage, I shoved him off of me with a snarl. "Get away from me!" I screeched, making haste to fasten the buttons of my jeans before he could come back. "Get the hell away from me, and Hensley, _right now_!"

His posse tittered, unsure of how to react. Was I a joke? Or was I serious?

Well, I for one was positive about just how serious I could get.

"You'd better leave," I growled lowly, a major contrast to my shrieking before. "You'd better leave before I pummel you into the dirt."

Daryl's hand touched his temple, feeling the blood that had seeped there. He took his hand away, looked at it, almost as if he were surprised.

And then he met my gaze, his eyes as hard as sparking flint. "Get her."

They let go of Hensley and headed straight for me. I spread my feet shoulder length apart, and brought my hands up to guard my head. No way was one of their fists hitting me anywhere. Not again.

One of them, the one with the black hair, grabbed hastily for my arm, but I deflected him with ease. Adrenaline was pumping in my veins now. I was unstoppable.

I doubted, as another one of them grasped for my long curls, that it would be much of a fight. Already I'd deflected two, snapping their wrists with my inhuman strength. The ones I hadn't yet touched were already looking uncertain, as if this was a fight they didn't want a part of.

The girl could fight back. That was not good, not in their eyes.

As I grabbed a boy's arm and slammed him into the wall, I was vaguely aware of Hensley raising her giant purse above her head, advancing on Daryl. My eyes went wide. He'd stiffened. He knew she was there.

"Hensley, don't!" I shouted, just as her purse came down.

Daryl's hand closed around the handle before it could make contact, and he stood abruptly to pull her closer. She stumbled. His hand closed around her arm. He yanked, then pushed.

Hensley slammed into the wall, headfirst.

In my shock, I'd let down my guard. Someone's clammy hand pressed against my mouth, their other hand snatching at my shirt.

I grabbed their arm and pulled them over my head, smacking them into the floor, my eyes on Hensley the whole time. She'd slid down the wall, motionless, limp.

Daryl was bending over her.

I barely knew the girl, and yet an entire wave of rage was already washing over me. How dare he hurt her like that?

"Oh, Daryl," I called, feeling brave. One of the men down was moaning.

He barely spared me a glance before he reached for Hensley's shirt.

In a nanosecond, I was at his side, his jacket collar in the vice that was my hand, his feet inches from the ground. "I told you not to touch me."

And then I threw him, headlong, into the back of the alley, where he was met with a brick wall. The sickening crack was like music to my ears.

I hadn't noticed it in battle, but I was breathing hard. Now, as I surveyed the carnage around me, I saw I'd smacked every last one of them to the ground. Except one.

He was lingering by one of the men, patting him down. At first, I thought he was looking for broken bones. But then I saw the gleam of metal. Of a weapon. Of, unless my eyes failed me, a gun.

"You!" I yelled, stomping over to him. He whimpered and covered his head. I looked down at him, at the way his ears stuck out from his head, of how skinny he was.

The anger faded immediately. He was just a kid. Like me.

I racked my brain for images of him, standing by watching, maybe laughing. None came. I recognized his face, but he'd been hanging back, he'd been the one who didn't want to fight me. He'd been the kid who hadn't laughed at any of Daryl's disgusting jibes.

"What are you doing, getting caught up in a mess like this?" I demanded softly, my eyes narrowing. They stung, as if I should cry, but no tears came.

"Blackmail," replied the boy in a whisper. "I didn't want to. I didn't. Please. Please don't kill me."

Had I killed anyone? I didn't know. I don't think I cared.

"I'm not going to kill you," I told him. I don't think I could have if I'd wanted to. My energy was draining fast. "What did they blackmail you with?"

He shook his head. "You'll do it, too—"

"No, I wouldn't." I sighed, staring at him, unsure of how to proceed. "How about you lend me your cell phone, I call the police, and you can leave?"

He nodded hastily. "H-h-here," he stuttered. "P-p-please t-take it."

Numbly, I did. 9. _Beep_. 1. _Beep_. 1. _Beep_. A solitary ring. "This is 911, what is your emergency?"

"Hi. I've just been mugged."

I was surprised at how collected I sounded.

"Where are you?"

I glanced down the street to the sign. "In an alley." I gave her the coordinates.

"Okay, we've got a trace on your location. Hang tight, kid. In the meantime, can you tell me what happened? Exactly?"

My mind shut down, locking the gruesome details away. "No," I told her. "I can't. There's a girl named Hensley here who needs immediate attention. Ask her."

I snapped the phone shut, the tremors in my body reaching breaking point. I passed the kid his phone.

"Get out of here," I ordered. "I won't breathe a word."

I turned away as his footsteps pounded against the sidewalk.

**OOO**

"Jacob?" said Sam in disbelief.

And Jake understood. He hadn't really visited in a year, and this was what Sam would call unexpected. Jake hadn't called ahead to talk to them. He hadn't warned him he was coming. And since that link between their brains was all sorts of dead now, Sam hadn't known anything at all.

"Hey, Chief," Jake replied smoothly, sauntering over to the group. For once, they looked relaxed, playing poker by the firelight. Emily and Kim were in the kitchen, illuminated by the light flooding from the window. They were laughing.

Jake was reminded, quite painfully, about how much he missed this place. Living with no company but his makeshift pack and the leeches had left him a little homesick.

"Jake," Sam said again with his gruff voice, putting his cards flat on the table. "What are you doing here? Especially at this hour?"

Jake sighed, unsure about what he should say. They all looked so peaceful, so happy.

Seth was supposed to be here with him, in case anything happened with the pesky wild bloodsuckers that Jake was actually allowed to tear apart. But Seth had stayed behind at Charlie's, waiting to say a hearty hello to his mom. And Jake, well, he got that. But at the same time, he wasn't exactly thrilled at having to deliver this news alone.

He hated being the wet blanket.

"Guys, I need a huge favor." He looked every single one of them—Sam, Paul, Jared. Quil and Embry were back from Nessie's birthday. Claire was hugging Quil's leg under the table. She was nine now.

All of them were extremely grave. They knew something was up.

"Jake," Sam said for the third time. "We're here for you. What's going on? Are the Cullens okay?"

Jake shook his head, slowly. "No. Renesmee's gone, you guys. She ran away."

**OOO**

The red lights bounced off of the walls of the alley. They were so bright that I could barely concentrate on what the paramedic was asking.

"What happened to these boys?" he asked me again.

I shook my head. "I don't know."

"Were you knocked out?"

"Yes," I lied.

"Do you know if they attacked each other?"

"No," I lied again.

"How do you know Miss Robertson?"

I blinked at him. "Miss who?"

"Hensley Robertson?"

Oh. "We met earlier today."

"And?" he prompted.

"Well, we hung out and then—"

"Hey," he cut me off, pointing his pen at me. "Do I know you from somewhere? You a juvie kid?"

"Not at all, sir," I said, trying to look unfazed. "I—"

"Wait." His eyes lit up in recognition. "I know you. You're the girl from the poster!"

"The what?"

"The poster. You're that runaway. The Cullen girl."

I froze. "No," I said. "You're mistaken."

"That's what all the runaways say." He pulled out a black cell phone, dialed a number, and pressed it to his ear. "Hold on a sec, kid. I'm calling your dad."

My eyes flew wide. "No, no no no. You can't—"

He turned away for a split second, calling over one of his buddies to detain me. But by the time he'd turned back around, I was gone.

**OOO**

**So that's it. I know. You're thinking: "A cliffy for three months and this is all I get??? WHAT???"**

**I'm sorry. I wanted to end your suffering.**

**So, I don't know when the next chapter will be, but I have it planned out from here so it shouldn't be too long. I'm just working on getting back in Renesmee's head. Sorry if she seemed a bit out of character. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**Jamie.**


	9. What I've Done

_**The Diary**_

_Chapter 9: What I've Done_

**What I've Done—Linkin Park.**

**I know, I know. Cliché, I get it. This song is used for everything. But, if you really think about it, it works universally for just about every character in this chapter. They all think everything is their fault. **

**Okay, so I'm back on track! Sorry if the last chapter was too intense for any of you. **

**AND AWWWWW! YOU GUYS!!!! You still love me?! I'm shocked. Really, I am. I thought for sure I'd accidentally shunned you. Again, I apologize. I'm very, very sorry. Thank you so much for staying loyal to the story! I love you guys! Andddd. Since FF is being really idiotic at the moment, here are some answers to your questions:**

**AnyLove (they wouldn't let me put a dot in your name): I'm sorry. No to your romance question. And of course I didn't stop caring! You guys make my day brighter!**

**Fiction101: Renesmee? Sit back? Oh, no sirree bob. Is that really my style? Glad you liked the chapter.**

**Jate4ever: Don't worry. I already have the next chapter written. Thanks for reviewing. **

**Like, I said, this story was easy after I got over that hump. I'm not the best with action scenes, and I was trying to make it different from Cara's encounter with her rapists in **_**Sunrise**_**. So, sorry if that was too familiar.**

**OOO**

Everything was white, save for the occasional blotch of color. Here, there, a nurse would come barreling around a corner, dressed in Scooby Doo scrubs, a brown clipboard in her hands. Yes, there was color, but white was everywhere.

There was white _noise_, too. It flooded Edward's ears, drowning out the beeping monitors and the chaos of the hospital. He gritted his teeth, his mind swimming with so many other voices. But he didn't want to hear anything. Not now.

Bella's hand slid into his as they walked briskly down the hallway, sidestepping numerous staff members and occupied wheelchairs. She'd been too quiet since Charlie had called with the news. She wasn't hopeful, seeing as Renesmee had already fled when the paramedic pointed her out. _Stupid humans_, thought Edward dolefully.

But he really shouldn't have been judging.

Alice, Jasper, Rose, and Emmett had all been alerted of the new information. Charlie had informed Jacob of the events leading up thus far. Someone, he hoped, had called Carlisle and Esme.

And, yet, with all this new information, they still didn't have a clue what had happened or how. A grainy nine-one-one call, reporting a mugging. That was all they had.

Quickly, Edward's eyes scanned the room numbers. 

* * *

. There.

He rapped once, twice, and again before opening the door wide, Bella's hand still grasped in his.

A young—terribly young—girl was unconscious on the bed, her blonde hair fanned out underneath her bandaged head. Her pallor was ghostly, a deadly white. Her cheeks were scraped and her lips waxen. Her chest rose once and fell before remaining motionless for a painful moment. In that moment, only the beeping of the monitor signified she was alive.

Her dreams swirled in colors in Edward's mind. Blues, greens, various shades of yellow and purple. And there was red. An excessive amount of red.

And then it cut off, replaced with muggy, indecipherable thoughts. As if this girl had sensed them, her eyes opened slowly, fixing on the two vampires with black eyes in the room.

Edward saw her cringe. _No more needles_, she thought in panic. _Please_.

"We're not doctors," he assured her, trying to not let his mind reading skills enter this conversation. She was human. She couldn't know. "I'm Renesmee's brother." It was easy enough to believe.

"You look like her," the girl said, struggling to sit up. Edward made a move to help her, but was frozen by her stricken expression and alarmed thoughts.

_Don't touch me_, they whispered.

Bella tugged on his hand; it wasn't impossible to see the girl was terrified.

Edward extracted himself from her, holding both hands up to the girl to show that he wasn't about to hurt her. "I apologize," he said sincerely. "I only meant to help." But the girl didn't relax, the red spot on her bandage growing darker. Edward could smell the blood. "I'm sorry I frightened you. I'll stay here, over here," Edward assured her, taking a countable two steps back. "I just want to know what happened to Renesmee."

The girl looked down at her hands. "Renesmee? Nessie?" Edward nodded. "She kicked ass," the girl told him, glancing up to briefly meet his eyes, but hers dropped once again to her lap. "I mean, she was down for a while, but—"

"What are you talking about?" Edward demanded, eyes narrowing. Her thoughts were buzzing; it was impossible to pick one from the other. And that in itself was beyond frustrating. "Start from the beginning. Your name?"

"Hensley," she said.

"Nice to meet you. Please, go on, and I beg of you not to leave a single detail out."

Hensley bit her lip. "We went clubbing," she began uncertainly. "And Nessie wanted to get wasted. She told me repeatedly that all she wanted was to forget, and hey, I've been there. So I said sure, I'll pay. She must have downed twenty shots before the effects got to her. I've never seen someone hold that much liquor in their life. Not without puking, at least."

Bella lowered her shield, catching Edward off guard with her alarm. Her daughter? _Drinking_? She was outraged.

"Anyway, she looked like she was having a good time, I guess." Images of Renesmee dancing filled Edward's vision from the girl's memory. He saw Nessie's face: on the outside, it looked happy and carefree, but her eyes didn't match. Haunted and dark, they gazed out of Hensley's memory, burning into Edward's mind. "And she was only a little buzzed by the time she wanted to go home. She offered to walk me, since she promised she could get me there before my curfew."

Edward and Bella exchanged a glance. He wasn't sure he liked this.

Hensley closed her eyes, as if the memory was too painful to bear. "And so, we get a block away when Nessie decides she wants to be a little out of the ordinary. Instead of walking around the next block like a normal person, she decides she wants to go through the alley to the other side. And, me being me, I said sure."

Edward didn't know how to feel about this. Firstly, his daughter drinking? Not only was it strange, but it was extremely out of character for her. She used to be responsible. Then, leading an innocent girl into a dark alley? Edward was starting to wonder how this Hensley had gotten hurt so badly. Had Renesmee not been herself, due to the alcohol, and seduced Hensley into the alley? Had his daughter been out for blood?

He had a hard time believing this, but Carlisle always said how unpredictable alcohol could make a human. And Nessie _was_ half human.

Unfortunately, Edward would have taken that over what he heard next. A thousand times.

"They were waiting for us, the guys she rescued me from earlier. They attacked Nessie first, and she took it without complaint. She let them take advantage of her. She let them hit her. She didn't fight back at all."

Renesmee filled Edward's vision again. From Hensley's point of view, she could only see Renesmee's face as it hit the wall time and time again. The hulking, ugly boy beating her just didn't seem to tire of it. Shock filled Edward's brain.

"She didn't make a sound, not for a while, anyway. She just went with it. I don't know if she did that thing where she just went somewhere else in her mind, escaping reality, or if she was just gritting her teeth the whole way. I don't know why she didn't get mad earlier."

"Earlier?" Edward repeated doubtfully. He was still trying to work around the fact that his daughter was attacked. This girl's thought process was slow and he was in a vampire form of shock. He couldn't see what was about to happen next.

Bella, beside him, was livid. Her hand was tight on his, and when he glanced at her, he saw her eyes had become slits. The images filled Edward's mind again, and pure, unadulterated rage replaced it, tenfold.

"Well, after she was hit a ton of times, she finally got pissed enough to react. She said, 'Don't touch me' with this really purposeful voice, you know? And she stood up and practically crushed his hand in hers. But it didn't last."

Suddenly, whatever dam had been closing Hensley's mind exploded, letting forth image after image of what Hensley had seen. This man named Daryl throwing Renesmee into the wall, the blood spurting from a gash in her forehead.

And then the big one. The one where his meaty hands unbuttoned her jeans and touched her. Renesmee's face, full of sheer terror, of disbelief, as his fingers violated her skin.

Edward barely held back the resounding roar. His hand tightened around Bella's, a red rover grip, now. She glanced at him, alarmed—she couldn't see what he saw. Hensley didn't notice anything.

"He . . . ." Hensley grimaced before striding forward with her account. "He molested her, right there in front of me. He did some things to her that I'd never want done to myself."

The door opened slowly. Rosalie "Hale" stepped through the threshold. Her face was full of pain, anger, and disgust. She'd heard.

"Your sister?" Hensley asked Edward, nodding to Rosalie with a jerk of her head. "You guys kind of look alike . . . a little. Same eyes."

Edward was too beside himself with fury to notice her comment. The images kept flashing behind his closed lids, suffocating his mind, smothering his voice. Bella, beside him, had gone rigid with realization, her mouth agape in a horrified little "o."

Rosalie stepped in for them. "Go on," Edward heard her say.

"And then, it was like, she woke up," Hensley told them. "Her face morphed into this horrendous scowl, and she went totally Chuck Norris on the guy. She pushed him _feet_ off her, into the far wall, and he hit his head. But he wasn't out for the count. Just down for a moment. He ordered his guys to go get her, and all of them except one let go of me.

"This guy was just a kid—really shouldn't have been caught up in all this shit. He was skinny and had ears that were too big for his head." Hensley pursed her lips. "And then he let go of me, too, but not to go after Nessie. And hell, who _would_ with the way she was practically killing those guys?"

More images, these sating some of Edward's bloodlust. He saw Renesmee lifting guy after guy over her head and slamming them down. He saw her punch, kick, growl, and slam. _Jasper_, he thought, _would be proud_.

"So he gave me my purse back, all the while staring at Nessie with this mix of horror and worship. And I was making my way over to Daryl, ready to cream him. You got to understand he's been bothering me since the seventh grade with this stuff. And so I'm about to hit him, right? But it's like he sees me coming, and Nessie's crying, 'Hensley, don't!' but by then, I'm already toast. Daryl knocked me out, and that's all I remember."

The three of them stared at the girl in the gunny, revolted by her tale. Renesmee? Nearly _raped_? What had this world come to?

Edward's rage was building again. It boiled up in his chest, filling his being to the brim. It spread to the tips of his fingers, his toes, the ends of his hair. He could feel it in his throat, ready to explode. Before he decided to break something, he turned on a dime and left the room.

"Thank you for sharing that with us," he heard Bella say to the girl before she left too. He heard her quick footsteps, and then Rosalie's, as they followed him down the hall.

The images kept flashing. They wouldn't stop. Edward tried to find something to preoccupy his mind with, but he couldn't. His breath hissed through his teeth, his eyes coal black, as he jammed the "down" button on the elevator. The plastic cracked beneath his finger.

_Pointless!_ the voice inside his mind roared, and he turned again and blazed down the stairs, narrowly avoiding a collision with the Head Surgeon. He could still feel Bella behind him, hear Rosalie's frantic thoughts. She was wondering if she should call Emmett for help.

But it needed to end. Someone had to die tonight, if they weren't already dead.

Edward burst through the ICU floor, looking for Daryl Jenkins's bed. He would see that boy gasp for air tonight. He would see him die.

"Edward!" Bella called after him, her hands grasping for his shirt. She missed my millimeters. "Edward, stop!"

Rosalie was suddenly in front of him, cutting him off. Her eyes were narrowed. Edward had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed her take a detour.

They were alone in the hallway off of the Intensive Care Unit. It was more dimly lit than the other rooms, not quite as white. Regardless, it didn't matter.

"Don't do it," Rosalie told him, palms out, hair disheveled from running. A first for her. "I've been down this road, Edward. You didn't want to kill Royce for me, so why are you doing this now?"

"This _isn't_ about you!" he snarled, eyes like slits, teeth bared. "For once in your life, Rosalie, _could_ you be a little less self-centered?"

"I know it's not about me!" she replied angrily, teeth snapping white. "I'm saying you were _rational_ back then. You understood all the angles of things _before_ you acted. Look at yourself right now! If I had a mirror with me, I would show you."

"Don't you always have a mirror?" retorted Edward. "To be reassured by your beauty in times of doubt? To be able to know while there may be thousands of pretty blondes out there, you are by far the most beautiful?"

"Shut _up_!" Rosalie ordered, her blonde locks swinging with a jerk of her head. "Would you actually _listen_ to my thoughts? Listen to them! _Really_ listen!"

Bella's hand wrapped around his tense arm, pulling him away from Rosalie without much effort. He was nearly broken, and he stumbled back into her arms without resistance. It was only then that Edward allowed Rosalie's thoughts to enter his mind.

They were pure, clean. She was just as angry as him. The only thing they disagreed on was that he should kill the boy. Rosalie wanted to do it herself, but she knew Edward would hate them all—and himself—if something like that were to happen. There wasn't a selfish inkling in her mind.

She was actually concerned for them. Him, Edward. Her, Renesmee. Bella. Even Jake.

He stared up at her with almost new eyes. He'd always known she cared about his family, but he'd always questioned her motives. Now, he knew.

Emmett's pounding feet were deafening in the suddenly quiet hallway. He ran towards them, arm extended, a silver cell phone in his hand. "Sorry I'm late," he apologized with a grim expression.

It occurred to Edward that Emmett hadn't a clue of what had become of Renesmee yet. He opened his mouth to say something, but Emmett cut him off with one well delivered thought.

_Jake called. He wants to talk to you_.

**OOO**

I was breathing hard, the water warm against my skin as it lapped at my toes. The concrete was cool on my feet. A bar of soap in one hand, my clothes in the other, I dipped into the water.

I didn't like to swim. I never had, for some reason. It was probably because I wasn't good at it.

The family's home I had arrived at was vacant. They had left for vacation a few days ago. Luckily, they had a pool and, luckily, their second-story security wasn't all too great. A bit of superhuman strength here, a push there, and a window was open. I'd planned to take a shower, but was suddenly reminded of a thing called the "water bill."

I wasn't a thief. I didn't want to steal their water.

So, instead, I grabbed a new bar of soap, jumped back out of the window, and was now bathing in their pool, under the moonlight.

I felt so completely dirty. So violated.

For the umpteenth time in the past two hours, I wondered whether I should have stuck around and made sure Hensley was okay. She'd been breathing when I'd left, but the principle still remained. I blinked away tears as I scrubbed at my knotted hair. Maybe my family would have taken me back home. Then I'd have a real shower, a washcloth and shampoo and hot water.

And I'd have clean clothes. I'd have a movie to watch with my family. I'd have Jake snuggled up beside me, grinning. Alice would be complaining that my tops didn't match my bottoms and my slippers didn't match my socks. My dad would pretend to be watching the movie, but would really be starting at Mom and then Jasper would sigh, as if he were annoyed. Esme would be in the kitchen, whipping up some elaborate dessert, with Seth accompanying willingly, Leah grudgingly. Rosalie and Emmett would be lounging on the floor playing cards. Carlisle would be sitting in his armchair, switching between reading his book and paying attention to the film.

The salty water slipped freely from my eyes now, mixing with the Chlorine in the pool. My chest heaved, my fingers tightening in my hair. A sob escaped my throat. A wail.

I scrubbed harder, trying to wash away my shame and my tears. I feared I would never be the same.

**OOO**

I was running again.

The wind had blown my hair dry, as well as my clothes. My backpack hit me with every step, but I didn't care so much, not now.

I could smell the blood. I was hungry.

The ground flew beneath my rapid feet. I kicked up dirt, the edges of my jeans getting once again soaked by the damp earth. I could smell life all around me. Everything, in my desperate hunger, was clear.

The deer didn't see it coming. One minute, I was nowhere near it, and the next, it was pinned against my mouth, its blood pouring down my throat. I reveled in the sensation.

And then, clarity.

I pulled away from the deer, disgusted with myself. How serene did she look, before I'd killed her with a twist of my hands? How graceful had she been, bounding, leaping over dead logs before I'd ambushed her? How peaceful? How happy? Did she have fawns waiting for her return? How old was she? Had she had a life to live?

I began to cry, the sound hollow in the now quiet forest. The wildlife had fled, leaving me alone in my anguish.

I could have just eaten normal food. Broccoli. Pasta. They were all at my disposal. I had refused to be a thief of water earlier, and now I'd stolen the ultimate prize. Life. I'd stolen life. Because that was what monsters did.

I knew now, with a painstaking thought, what needed to be done. I could never go back home, not befouled as I was. I no longer belonged there, with my family. A monster belonged with monsters.

I would have to join the Volturi.

**OOO**

**Don't ask me how Nessie came to that conclusion. The characters speak for themselves.**

**I liked how most of this was about Edward. He is so fun to write about. His mind fascinates me.**

**Anyway, there's your chapter. I'll be working! I already have the next chapter written. Go me. **

**Jamie.**


	10. Bye Bye Beautiful

_**The Diary**_

_Chapter 10: Bye, Bye Beautiful_

**Bye Bye Beautiful—Nightwish**

**NOW I can use that song. Okay. Cool. **

**As you have seen, this story isn't just about Renesmee. It's about practically everyone who was mentioned in the books. They all get involved somehow. Except for the dead ones, because they're dead.**

**Oh, and my Italian in this chapter? It **_**should**_** be correct. I went to Italy over the summer, and it was pretty awesome. Florence was my favorite area. People were actually singing. In the streets. It was way cool.**

**(BY THE WAY!) That obnoxious line in the previous chapter?? That was supposed to be the actual room numbers. But stupid FF kept freaking out on me and I gave up trying to alter it. I apologize for this website's stupidity.)**

**Anyway, read on, faithful readers! **

**OOO**

Jake had matured a lot in the past few years. His alliance with Edward had turned into a brotherhood—at least until recently. He'd stopped thinking perverted thoughts. He wasn't so quick to annoy Blondie anymore. He tried not to refer to vampires as leeches, or even vampires. He tried to just call them the Cullens.

But his reaction right now? Well, for one thing, it was far from mature.

His breathing was coming fast, the air whooshing through clenched teeth. His face was contorted into a menacing scowl. His brothers' expressions were similar: varying levels of outrage were displayed on their faces. Determination was a close second.

"What?" Jacob demanded of the black cell phone pressed to his ear. "What the hell did you just say?"

Although, he wasn't so sure he wanted to hear it again.

Renesmee, violated.

His mind was a black hole, derived of all morals. He needed to break something. He needed someone dead. Someone had to pay.

"Edward," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "No. No, that's not possible."

Edward's voice, barely tamed, came back over the receiver. He'd seen it. It was real. There was no alternative.

Jake's chest was suddenly too tight for air. His eyes stung. Renesmee. _His_ Renesmee, _desecrated_ by some stranger on the streets? Hell hath no fury like the boyfriend of an Imprint. He would see that kid _writhe_.

"Renesmee held her ground, after a while," murmured Edward.

"A while?" Jake repeated, glancing at Sam for some guidance. Sam had none to give. "A while, Edward? What does that mean?"

"He—" Edward took an unnecessary intake of breath. "He beat her."

"_WHAT_?" Jake roared, taking them all by surprise. As if the first problem wasn't already horrible enough. "Where _is_ she?"

A long pause. Déjà vu all over again.

"We don't know. We don't have any idea."

**OOO**

"I need a ticket," I murmured to the woman behind the desk.

She scrutinized me over her spectacles. She was the kind of person with every single hair in place, pulled back into a hardcore bun, with her makeup perfectly arranged on her face. Her uniform was void of any disarray whatsoever. "Why, yes," she replied rudely. "It would appear so."

It took every ounce of willpower in my being not to fix her with a glare. _Be polite_, I told myself. _It's in there somewhere_. Now, I stared at her evenly. "I need one to Italy."

"Oh," she said haughtily, straightening her spine, fingernails clacking on the keyboard. "Yes, yes . . . hmm. No, that won't do . . . . The earliest I have," she announced finally, glancing back at me, "is at four thirty today."

"I'll take it."

Truth be told, I had expected a lot worse. So, I handed over my untraceable credit card, hoping that it really _was_ untraceable, and waited.

**OOO**

"_Firenze_!" screamed a banner in the Florence airport. I knew what it meant. It was Italian for Florence. I wondered vaguely why we bothered giving cities in other languages new names. What was the point, again?

And then I was being bustled along with my disheveled curls and wrinkled clothing. I looked like a runaway. I looked tired and mentally exhausted. The lady I'd sat next to on the plane kept asking how I was in Italian, and if I needed a place to stay.

Right, like I'd endanger an innocent old woman. That was pretty high up on the "List of Things to Do" for monsters, right?

It had been a little over two days since I'd left, and already, I was miserable. I'd found myself changing—little changes, like the way my hair was pulled into a messy ponytail or the way I talked. But still, I was changing, and I wasn't sure if I liked it.

And my thoughts were changing, too. They were becoming less civilized, more animalistic. I supposed it came from my survival instinct, from the horrendous incident of last night. Or this morning. I was all screwed up with the time change.

"_Senorita_," a young woman said to me as we neared the baggage claim—and, for me, the exit. "Do you need money?"

She said this in her fluent tongue, and I stared at her, taken aback. Did I really look that pathetic? I'd been gone for fifty hours! I blinked at her. And then I began to realize what the problem was.

She was a scam artist.

"_No, gratzi_," I replied in perfect Italian. _No, thank you_. I hoped I'd come off as a native. I hoped she felt embarrassed. _But of course not_, I realized as I shot her a look over my shoulder. She'd forgotten me, already moving on to the next innocent tourist.

As I walked over to an ATM to obtain a few Euros, it occurred to me just how much of an idiot I was being. Here I was, alone, in a country I didn't know my way around, save for a map or two. I was _alone_. Was I just asking for another reply of last night?

I shuddered violently. No, it wouldn't happen again. It couldn't.

I pressed away my hyperventilation and extracted my money. And then I went outside to hail a cab. Or steal a car.

I just didn't know which yet.

**OOO**

Alice's face had gone white.

Edward, Bella, Rosalie, Emmett, and most of all, Jasper, all had their eyes fixed on her snowy face, fear etched into their expressions. Carlisle and Esme were staring at each other in resignation.

"Gone," said Alice, and chaos erupted. She blinked rapidly, faced with the ensuing panic attack of seven vampires. She glanced around worriedly. "Not Renesmee!" she corrected herself. "I could never even see her!"

The commotion came to a screeching halt.

"But it might be just as bad," Alice added tentatively. Edward's face was chiseled into a hard mask. She was afraid of what it might turn into when she dropped her bomb.

And then she did, mentally, and his mask fell away to reveal shock. Complete, petrifying shock. "No," he choked out, as if he were being strangled. Not a good sign. "No, God no. She wouldn't do that."

"But she did."

Edward groaned, his hands reaching up to his face as if he were to gauge out his very eyes. Alice frowned, watching anxiously as he fought his battle. "How much time?" he whispered.

"I'd say about six hours. If," appended Alice, "she drives slow."

"What?" demanded Bella, yanking down on Edward's wrists. "What is going on, Alice?"

Jasper, concerned as usual, bent down to his wife. "What did you see?"

"That's the problem," she replied glumly. "I didn't."

Emmett was the quickest to put the picture together. "Who disappeared?" he asked.

"The Volturi," Alice told them all gravely. "All of them. So either they got a pet werewolf, or Renesmee has decided to go have a chat."

The coven of vampires stared at her. Renesmee? Go to the Volturi? Rosalie and Bella snuck glances at Edward. Could it possibly be for the same reason? They hoped not.

Alice closed her eyes and rubbed her hands over her face. How could it have gotten so bad, so quickly? "So what are we going to do?"

It was no secret that the Volturi wouldn't take kindly to the entire coven arriving on their doorstep. Edward and Alice were forbidden from going—who was to say Aro wouldn't decide to let them stay a little longer? Bella could go, and protect her real thoughts, then Renesmee's, but Aro wanted her, too. The pack was out of the question. Emmett would start a fight. Jasper could possibly go, but Alice was worried because she wouldn't be able to see him. Rosalie and Esme didn't have any redeeming qualities for battle. That left . . .

"Carlisle."

The blonde vampire nodded at his son's voice. He understood. As much as he was still upset by his old friends' earlier betrayal, he understood that he was the only one who could go and argue for Renesmee's safe return.

"Aro will argue," Carlisle said aloud, "that it was Renesmee's choice. What will I say to this?"

Edward and Bella exchanged a look. "She's still a minor," Bella reminded them. "She doesn't have a say yet if she were human, which she is. Does this apply in the immortal world?"

"Technically, yes. She's still a child." Edward nodded thoughtfully. "Aro can't deny this."

"Can't he?" replied Alice. "He'll remember that she's supposedly eighteen now. He's not an idiot."

"Yeah, he is," mumbled Emmett. Rosalie sighed.

"All the same." Carlisle stood up, one of his hands on Esme's shoulder. "I will go and demand Renesmee to come home with us. Jasper, you're coming, too."

It was so strange to see Carlisle, his tone full of anger. He was mad, which was something they all had rarely seen etched into his face. Jasper stood, arms crossed. Alice reached out for him before remembering Renesmee's life was at risk. Her hand dropped.

"Besides," added Carlisle, grabbing his wallet from the end table and shoving it into his pocket. "He owes us."

**OOO**

**Yes, it was a tad short. But, really, it was kind of a filler chapter. Sort of giving you the background of what's going on. Jacob, Seth, and Leah's part of the story will be in the next chapter. Renesmee . . . well, we'll see what happens. I'm debating for two possible "solutions" at the moment.**

**Not to be a review whore, but feedback? Any more action you'd like to see?**

**Jamie.**


	11. A Beautiful Lie

_**The Diary**_

_Chapter 11: A Beautiful Lie_

**A Beautiful Lie—30 Seconds to Mars.**

**I was waiting until I'd seen the movie to write this chapter, so I could be more detailed with the Volturi. (Yes, I know the movie is different from the book, but still, I thought it might help me imagine it.) And then I completely forgot about this, because I'm in this program called "IB" at school—and it sucks the very life out of you! So that's why this chapter took a while. I apologize.**

**You can thank Xrizz for getting me back on track. **

**Recap: Jacob doesn't know Renesmee is in Italy yet. Carlisle and Jasper are on their way, but they might happen to run into some complications. Alice, to answer some question, did not see the Volturi, she saw them disappear, much like when she saw Bella disappear in the beginning of Eclipse. Renesmee, unfortunately, was already in Italy for a while when Alice saw this. She saw it late because she hadn't really been looking for the Volturi in the first place. **

**So let's backtrack.**

**OOO**

For some reason, I could feel the heat of the sun beating down on my back. It was hotter here, somehow, then back in America. The heat made me uncomfortable—I wasn't used to it, I didn't like it.

Hell would be a thousand times worse than this. A million times.

The colors were bright here. The greenery was lush, for it wasn't quite winter yet. The fall was still hot, still humid and muggy.

The whole effect was disorienting.

I glared against the sun—the bright sun—up at the gates of the castle. Amazing, I thought, how such a landmark, a tourist attraction, so easily concealed an entire coven. The guard, the wives, the human helpers, all surrounding the three royal brothers. I wondered once again why they had to take such a risk—although I suppose it really wasn't a risk—and why they couldn't just live in a forest like the rest of us, and not herd poor, unsuspecting tourists to their doom.

Speaking of, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a mass of jabbering, excited people walking toward the gates, lead by a tall, blonde woman with purple eyes. Heidi, my mind cataloged her, the vampire that herded all the humans. Carlisle had told me about her.

I tried to look nonchalant, to look like a mere local stopping to gaze at the beautiful architecture. But as they filtered in through the iron wrought gates, I tagged onto the tail of the group, head down, trying to look invisible.

I tried not to think about the symbolic finality of the gates slamming shut behind me. I tried not to look back, but take in my surroundings instead.

The courtyard was bare of people. But bright green grass swayed lazily in the welcome breeze. Trees whistled from the wind. It was all very serene, very beautiful, but I could hear beneath the surface. I could hear the light footsteps of the guard, hiding beneath the ground as the sun baked overhead. I could barely make out indents in the smooth lawn, where there were, no doubt, places a vampire could leap out to settle an unfortunate dispute.

If you wanted to escape, there was no way. They would catch you before you got halfway down the lawn.

I licked my lips nervously. What had I gotten myself into?

"This way, please" announced Heidi's perfect voice, sounding a little too cheery. I pursed my lips and made sure my feet kept moving. I tried to ignore the fear that was slowly building in my chest, the dread that settled there. "Stay together."

Yeah, I thought bitterly, nervously. Like that would help.

I'd never been tested. Vampire venom? Would it kill me, leave me in extreme pain, or have no effect on me at all? What if they somehow mistook me for a human? Was that even possible?

My thoughts were cut short as we reached the steps.

The doors opened like an old horror movie, minus the creaks and groans of the aged wood. I stepped through the threshold and onto the cool tile easily. I looked at the walls, at the art like the other people around me, but I didn't see anything. The numbness was starting to settle in. I cast one final glance at the outside world before the doors melded back together.

"Heidi!" someone exclaimed cheerfully from down the hall. The voice registered in my mind—a distant, distant memory.

Demetri.

He was all smiles, looking positively trustworthy. My eyes narrowed, because I knew. I knew how he worked and what he did. And I was well aware about what was going to happen to these people.

"Looks like you've brought quite the crowd." His red eyes, invisible to a mere human, raked over the horde of people before unsettlingly landing on me. They lingered there, and I stared back, unable to break his gaze, although I knew exactly what he was doing. He was cataloging the "flavor" of my mind into his own. He knew I was special.

I wondered again, just briefly, why I wanted to join such a hideous coven.

Heidi whispered something to him, tossing her blonde curls behind her, and smiled blindingly. She began to lead them forward, and I began to follow.

"Not her," Demetri said suddenly, just as I passed him. His cool hand landed on my shoulder, bringing me to a semi-painful stop. "It appears you've dragged in a loner. She's not part of the tour."

Heidi glanced at me, confused. The rest of the tour glared, angry that I'd stepped in on their "fun." I wanted to warn their ignorant selves. I wanted to scream at them to run.

"Heidi, my dear, please do be slightly more careful next time. We don't want to bring in strays." He emphasized this with a smile—more like a barring of his teeth—and nodded to Heidi, who looked annoyed. "Go on without me. Tell Aro that when he's finished—" Demetri paused, the smile turning into something slightly more sadistic "—showing these kind people the ways of the castle, that he's advised to summon me and the rat."

A _rat_? That was a new one. I'd lost count of how many times I'd been called a name on my travels. And _ways of the castle_? I felt sick.

It was only as they were leaving that I noticed the child. A little girl with bouncy, blonde curls. In her hands was a white teddy bear, something obviously very dear to her. My eyes widened as I watched her go, and I leapt for the door, but Demetri's grip on me stopped me cold. As soon as the last unsuspecting human disappeared around the next door, I twisted nimbly away from Demetri's iron grasp. He let me go, calculating, as I stalled for time.

"It's sick what you do," I hissed, unable to stop myself. The snarl broke out of my own throat, highlighting each word. "Lead unsuspecting men, women, and _children_ to their untimely deaths. Sick."

He shrugged, unbothered. I doubted I was the first one to air my views. "We keep the useful ones."

"And that makes it all better." I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you all to say who lives and who dies? Or who is damned to a lifetime of monstrosity?"

He stared at me, sneering. "Cullen, correct? You're the half-breed. The breach of security." He smiled unsettlingly. "You've become quite the inspirational speaker."

"I'm the girl you tried to kill years ago."

"Right, of course. I remember you. Same mind. Same . . . taste."

My eyes dropped to the floor. Gross. I tried to reassess my approach. So far, I was the ratty half-breed and a breach of security. I questioned whether I would die today, or whether they would rather take me on. My gift wasn't as profound as my fathers, my aunt's, or my mother's. I could show people pretty pictures. What a talent.

I straightened out from my crouch and felt my chin jerk up. "Do not threaten me."

"I wasn't," I informed me icily. "You do realize you are making me miss my dinner. I do not take kindly to that, and you _are_ half human. Do not be so quick to anger, dear child."

I gritted my teeth. "Then go feast, why don't you?"

"If I let a Cullen slip by, Aro will not be pleased. And Alec is busy."

Alec. My mind shied away from the thought of him.

"And Jane?" I found myself asking.

Demetri smiled again and looked to his right, towards the door.

"Here," she proclaimed in her childlike voice, standing straight, prim, and proper. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her toes pointed slightly out. She stared at me, full-red eyes half-lidded, and a bored expression on her face.

I waited, waited to see if she would send me to the floor with the unbearable pain I'd heard about.

"Relax, vermin," she told me, and then stared at Demetri with a trained eye. "I was wondering where you were."

_Jane never goes anywhere without Demetri,_ I remembered my father saying.

"Assessing the imports," Demetri replied dryly. Resentment bubbled in my chest; I was an _object_, too.

She dismissed that and returned to me, the ratty half-breed import. "I can't use my gift on you until Aro tells me to, or unless you try and run away." She smiled, but it wasn't a sweet one. "Although I am interested. You were too well protected the last time we met."

I didn't respond. I was still trying to think around the fear that was starting to overtake my mind.

"Go," Jane told Demetri, a regal tone to her voice. "I'll watch the girl." Which was basically her way of saying, _Don't worry. She's not getting away_.

I hadn't noticed her in the chaos before, but now my gaze set on the human at the Welcoming desk as Demetri pushed past her. She glanced up, met my gaze, and hurriedly returned to her keyboard.

"She knows?" I asked Jane.

Jane raised a well-groomed eyebrow and smirked. "Of course."

Nothing more, nothing less. Two words. Somehow, this made me more nervous than I had been a moment ago. What did you say to an unstable vampire who relished in causing pain? Did you talk about the weather? I doubted this.

"Sit," Jane commanded.

I sat on the stiff, uncomfortable couch. You would assume old Vampires with a lot of money would invest in plush furniture. Apparently not.

"Why are you here?" She crossed her arms, staring down at me with a mixture of jealousy and anger.

A coolness settled over me. "These are things I want to discuss with Aro," I told her, and seeing her resulting fury, I added: "If you're there when I tell him, fine. But he needs to know first."

She couldn't argue with this. Her lip curled upwards and she fell gracefully into the chair opposite of mine.

And so I waited.

**OOO**

"Wait a second." Jake rubbed a hand over his stubble and actually took the phone away from his ear to stare at it for a long, disbelieving second. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, they're on the way to—"

"I know what you said." Jake sighed, a heavy, loud sound of pure exhaustion. He'd been everywhere. The pack had been everywhere. He'd been absolutely sure that they'd find her somewhere. And why hadn't they? Another sigh, and then Jake mumbled, "_Italy?_"

Edward, on the other line, spoke through his teeth. "Yes."

"And, if I recall correctly, that's where the big, badass Vampires are, right? The really stupid, royal ones that wanted to kill her all that time ago?"

"Yes."

"And she went there?"

Through all of this, Jake had sounded unbelievably calm and approachable. He'd sounded rational. And he was really proud of that.

However, when Edward confirmed:

"Yes"

Jake just snapped.

His hand crushed around the phone, snapping it into a million little pieces. Seth, beside him, flinched and backed away.

"What is it?" the boy asked.

Jacob's voice was low and just teeming with anger. "She's going to get herself killed."

"Is someone taking care of it?" Seth pressed quietly.

"Jasper and Carlisle." Jake liked his lips and shook the plastic and circuitry of the phone out of his hands. "But they think she's already been there a while. Alice's vision was delayed, or something."

"Delayed?" Seth repeated. "Is that possible?"

"Yeah, apparently it is. We don't know how long she's been there, what she's done, or if we can get her back. We don't even know if she's dead."

"Why would she do this, of all things?" Seth asked. "I don't understand—that's not Ness."

Jake shook his head and bit his tongue. He tasted copper. "My only guess is that she has a death wish," he murmured.

Seth was quiet.

"And that," Jake finished soberly, "is what scares me the most."

**OOO**

"It's time."

I actually felt stiff from waiting so long. I asked myself how long it could possibly take to feed, and then shuddered from the images that filled my head. I wouldn't ask out loud. Demetri, now fed, was more polite as I walked in front of him, looking strangely amused with this whole situation.

I didn't bother to wonder what that meant.

Jane led me down the hall, over to the giant, imposing double doors of the main room, which stood ajar for my forthcoming. Inside, I could hear idle chitchat, people murmuring to one another. I could hear a laugh.

I hoped there weren't any bodies.

There were, of course.

As soon as I walked in, my eyes immediately snapped to the glassy ones of a victim, open-mouthed and gaping up at me. I screamed, scrambling back and away, but someone took hold of my arm and thrust me forward. Everywhere I looked, there they were, just lying there. They didn't even have nice, clean marks on their necks. No.

There were gashes, bloody tissue hanging, stringy, from the wounds.

I registered the young child I'd seen before, her arms at odd angles, her blood splattered, formerly snow-white teddy bear just out of reach of her limp fingers.

I fell to my knees, and then my hands, pressing my cheek against the cold tile. I didn't want to be here anymore. I wanted to go home. I couldn't deal with this. It was too much . . . too much. I screamed again, and it sounded like a lamenting song. I heaved and cried and balled my hands into fists, air hissing in through my teeth.

"Control her."

Someone's hand reached out for me, but I twisted away, snarling and snapping at them. In the red haze that was my vision, I couldn't see who they were; I only knew I hated them with every fiber of my being. "Get away!" I screeched, and fell, once again, into a heap by the girl's side. "Leave me alone!"

My breathing sounded ragged, harsh. I felt wet, warm tears seep from my eyes and coat my hands.

"How can you do this?" I whispered.

Even I was not this horrible. I would _not_ resort to this destruction.

My hands clasped around the fluffy stuffed animal and brought it to my chest. It felt sad and lonely. Like me.

"It is what we do to survive, dear child." Aro stood from his throne and calmly stepped down. "We all need blood. Do you ever wonder if the animal you prey upon is just as helpless?"

He wouldn't know about the deer, would he? I screwed my eyes shut and clenched the bear tighter, a sob catching in my throat.

"I suppose you do." Aro's voice was too high, too friendly, for this kind of conversation. "You, my dear, are a strange child, indeed. Very strange."

"Kill her," Caius suggested with a wicked smile, "or read her mind and then kill her. Either way, please do not make me wait so long. I've never had a mutt's blood before."

Felix cleared his throat. "No, don't kill her."

Many in the room seemed surprised. I wasn't, somehow.

"Don't kill her," Felix said again, this time to Aro. He glanced at me and then away. "We don't need a war on our hands. It doesn't work to our advantage."

Jane smiled slowly. "You, Felix? Not excited for a war?"

"I said, it doesn't work to our advantage," he snarled at her. I sensed tension. "If we kill her, we've got the Cullens against us, and all their buddies, and their pets, and then some. Do we really want to do that right now?"

"No," Aro said simply. "I was never going to kill her. You can stop rushing to her rescue, Felix."

I wasn't sure whether I should thank him or not. I didn't feel so lucky at the moment.

"And yet," Aro mused, "that does leave us with the question of what to do with you. Well, Renesmee? What was your reasoning for coming here without a protective entourage?"

I took in a deep breath, looked down at the baleful teddy bear, and prepared myself for the worst.

**OOO**

**Yes, yes, I know. "Cliffie!?" Don't worry. I'm working on the next chapter as you're reading this.**

**Again, I apologize for making you wait …. Months…… for this update. But if you were me, you'd understand. I'm sorry, though. And I hope you all don't hate me.**

**Jamie.**


	12. Hero

_**The Diary**_

_  
Chapter 12: Hero_

**Hero—Skillet**

**Amazingly, the song name actually goes along with the chapter for once! Hey, that's pretty damn awesome. **

**It's kind of pathetic how I get excited about those little things, isn't it? Another song that would fit this if the chapter was slower, is Hello Again by the Lost Prophets. Check it. And Holding Out for A Hero (Shrek 2 version.)**

**Again, I say this every time I put a Christian song up here. I'm Christian, I'll just go ahead and tell you that, if you didn't already know. But look, I'm not trying to convert you by making you listen to "our" music. Really, I'm not. I'm one of those people who's like: "Do whatever you want. I'm cool with it." In all seriousness, I have one of those "COEXIST" stickers on the back of my car, so really—I'm not trying to convert you. I don't **_**want**_** to convert you. If you don't want to listen to the song, then for the love of Pete—don't. **

**The songs, as my more loyal readers are aware, are just there to help you visualize the scene. They're there to give you what I listened to for the chapter and what best fits the emotions the main character is experiencing. I listen to the lyrics, and if it goes, it goes. Nothing else to it. In this particular chapter, Cara is saying she needs a Hero, whoever it is—Jake, Edward, Mom, Nahuel? Or maybe she's saying she needs to stand up and be her own hero. You choose.**

**OOO**

"No."

Aro's black eyebrows rose up to meet his hairline. The papery, fragile-looking skin between his brows crinkled. He was surprised.

"No?" he repeated in confusion. "And what are you declining?"

I stood up, the white bear dangling from my childish grasp. The air was suddenly too thick, the atmosphere too heated. I felt like retching again. I couldn't—I wouldn't . . . My mind was racing, trying to come up with a suitable, scientific explanation for something so entirely _wrong_.

"Why?" I asked, instead of answering his question.

Aro chuckled. He _chuckled_. It was a high-pitched, almost feminine sound. It reminded me of nails scraping angrily against a chalkboard. "We do this all the time, my dear. Survival of the fittest. Have you ever read Dalton's works?"

"A thousand times," I informed him tightly. His explanation had done nothing to calm me.

"Then you must know," he said simply, ending that conversation. "Now, my dear, what did you come here for?"

His little dust-off made my mind stutter. I couldn't help it. Something inside me snapped.

"No!" I screamed, throwing my arms back, my curls bouncing down my back with the motion. "I won't!"

The guard was beginning to get a little nervous. I could see it on their stone expressions, the shifty eyes, the way their neck muscles tensed in preparation. It was obvious they didn't know what to expect. I was a Cullen, so therefore I must be civilized. I must know about their culture. I must know that what I was doing was suicidal.

Yeah, I did. I also knew I was a little bit crazy. Deranged.

"Are you attempting to copy your father?" asked Aro in a subdued, almost awed voice. "Because, if so, I guarantee I won't traverse down that path once again."

That stopped me embarrassingly short. "Pardon?"

"Edward never told you?" muttered Caius, not looking happy at all. The delay in his idealized battle had put a damper on his eagerly sadistic mood. "He's quite dramatic when he needs to be."

"I don't understand." My gaze didn't waver from Aro's, imploring him to explain. Had my father been here recently? Had he gotten himself killed . . . for me? If so, that was unbearable. I would follow to apologize.

"Have you ever read William Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_?" inquired Jane, an unsettling smile upon her lips.

I didn't like where this was going. "Of course."

"Then you'll know what I mean when I say . . . star-crossed lovers."

"I beg your pardon—?"

"Some years back," she began cockily, "your daddy dearest barged in here, severely indisposed, and demanded death."

"Death?" I choked out.

"Quite," she confirmed. "Your mother threw herself off a cliff."

No. No, no, no. This was ridiculous, completely ridiculous. My parents? Suicidal? What did they have to be so upset about? _They_ hadn't nearly killed their parents! _They_ hadn't forced a werewolf to fall in love with them! _They_ hadn't gotten molested on a street in Arizona while a helpless girl watched!

"You're lying."

Jane hissed, suddenly looking all kinds of ferocious. Demetri placed a tentative hand on her tense shoulder. "Hush," he murmured. "The girl is insane."

"She called me a liar!" screeched Jane. Her eyes flashed dangerously, her lips curling back from her teeth in a vicious snarl.

I realized it was a mistake before I hit the floor.

The pain—pain so bad that it made it impossible to think. It was as though a million—a zillion—needles were thrusting themselves through the lobes of my brain, twisting, probing deeper. And then it got worse; knives, white-hot knives, stabbing at every angle. Pain, pain, pain.

Faintly, I heard someone scream.

"Jane."

It stopped, but the memory was still there, as sharp as nails. Nails that prickled against my forehead. My breathing uneven, I forced myself to look up at Aro.

"Refrain your temper, Jane," he murmured coyly.

She hissed again, the sound low and threatening. I quickly stood, straight and tall. _Don't show weaknesses._

"Child," Aro said, this time to me. I stared at him. "Why are you here? I will not ask you again."

I could not speak—the words stuck in my throat. Silently, grudgingly, I offered my hand. He took it without hesitation. The effect was instantaneous: a startling shockwave that burst out from me, into him. I felt it swirl around us. His gift, my gift. They were similar.

"Ah," Aro said after a moment. "You are exceedingly like your father. You blame yourself for everything, do you not?"

_Not until lately,_ I told him.

"Shame. You do have such a beautiful mind, lest it be tainted with such doubts." He gave me back my hand, apparently done with his probing. I snapped it to my chest. "Do you still want to know if the offer stands?"

Some of the Volturi didn't like that. I heard them hiss, murmur, snarl and growl. I gritted my teeth, looked Aro in the eyes, and slowly shook my head. Fear and Anger rose within me, looking for a way out, any way out. It came in the form of words. "What I have seen today has opened my eyes," I whispered. Somehow, someway, my voice was low, low and threatening. Scary. "Even I am not as horrible as all of this. As all of you."

I waited for Aro to say something. He didn't.

"I wouldn't join your coven even if all the others were gone. I would kill myself first."

Still, they said nothing.

"You will not control me. Not with your power, not with your freaky little gifts! You cannot bestow upon me any amount of pain that would make me degrade myself to this. You could not. You won't. You can't take away anything that would alter the course my mind has taken. You want me to murder innocent children? You want me to stand over there like them and await the next victim that walks in here oblivious to what she may or will witness? No!"

Silence met my speech.

"You will not control me," I said again, narrowing my eyes. "And I am not afraid of you."

I hadn't thought that one through, not really. I realized, a bit too late, that I'd just snubbed Aro in front of all his subjects, everyone that was remotely important. This inspired my next question.

"Do you want to kill me?" I uncrossed my arms and held them stiffly at my side. "Then do it."

**OOO**

Charlie fumbled with the small phone, struggling to flip it open. His thumbs were too big for the numbers, his eyes too weak for the small screen. "Uh, Jake? Want to help an old man out?"

They'd had to buy a new one after Jake had destroyed its predecessor. Jake grimaced, snatching the phone from Charlie's hand and enfolding it in his own. He had to hand it to Charlie, though, for even thinking about this at all. Jake, himself? He wasn't too fond of the whole phone call thing anymore. He wasn't sure how much more bad news he could take.

"Carlisle?" he muttered into the phone.

There was a brief moment of silence. "No," said the vampire on the other end. "This is Jasper."

Jasper. Oh, God. Did that mean Carlisle was hurt? Dead? Had something bad happened to him. "Is the good doctor there?" asked Jake lowly.

Amazing how Renesmee had changed his entire perspective on the Cullens. He didn't hate any of them, not anymore—not even Edward, with the exception of the present circumstances. He'd had seven years to get used to the stench, and it barely bothered him anymore. And speaking of scents . . . _Renesmee_.

"He's unavailable."

Jasper was always rather short with his speech, which kind of irked Jake. "Why?"

"Er . . ."

"Hunting?" Jake guessed.

"No," said Jasper. "He's actually on my phone. With Nahuel."

Something ice-cold slithered through Jake. "Nahuel, the half-blooded vampire, Nahuel?"

"That's him."

"Wait, wait." Jake rubbed his temples, frowning. Charlie, beside him, exchanging a nervous glance with Seth. He still wasn't all-too crazy about the wording Jake used. Like . . . _vampire_.

"Tell it to me from the beginning. I thought you guys were going to Italy."

**OOO**

Aro didn't move.

I didn't move.

The guard didn't move.

"No," proclaimed Aro finally. "We will not. You came here to insult us? Very well. I hadn't expected anything less from a daughter of Edward. He was always more Do you wish for anything else?" I said nothing. "Then take your leave. Now."

If Aro could sound angry, he did. I had the feeling I was very, very lucky.

I backed up, slowly, keeping my eyes on them all. They darting nervously between the guard, between Aro, Marcus, Alec, Jane, Caius, Felix. Felix looked a little regretful, but relieved. I remembered a distant memory—he liked my mother, found her amusing. They'd joked around at the battle so many years ago, if only briefly.

He didn't want to see me dead.

I kept my eyes on him for a longer moment, longer that the rest, conveying my thanks, and then I turned.

And I fled.

My feet barely even touched the intricate tile as I flew over it, but before my obnoxiously slow self could reach the giant double doors, a snarl ripped from someone behind me, and it wasn't a warning.

I spun, just in time to see Caius launch himself in my direction, all teeth and red, flashing eyes.

"No!" he roared, landing just short of me. "Not again!"

He threw a heavy-fisted punch in my direction, and I danced out of the way easily. He was past enraged, absolutely livid, not thinking straight. He'd be easy to avoid, according to Jasper.

_Don't look at their eyes, _he'd told me during one of our lessons. _Watch their body for clues as to where they're going to hit next. And watch carefully. Don't look at any one place, and don't let your eyes dart around wildly, or you'll miss something. Keep _everything_ in your perspective at _all_ times._

"You escaped once!" he growled at me, a gnarled hand going for my throat. I backed up, and his fist curled around dead air. "Not again! You're an abomination, a half-breed! A mutt, like those filthy wolves!"

Aro and Marcus exchanged a nervous look as Aro reached for me again. They didn't look pleased that their brother had disobeyed their orders. Aro flicked a finger, and Demetri and Felix nodded, advancing.

I really hoped their object was Caius, not me.

Caius noticed them, and turned to face the larger threat. I whipped around and raced from the room, down the large hallway, out of range.

Or, I thought I was out of range. Not a moment later, the faster, stronger, and scarier Caius was in front of me.

"Still running? You can't run for that long."

He was right. I was breathing hard. I was already a little winded. But as he reached for me once again, I ducked under his arm and kept going. _Surprise_, I thought. _Element of surprise_. I wouldn't be able to fight him offensively. The only way I'd get out of this alive is if I played on the defense. Or, if I ran like hell.

I felt his fingers snag onto the hem of my shirt, dragging me backwards for a brief, terrifying moment, right before the fabric ripped, propelling him backwards, me forwards. I heard shouts from behind us—Felix?—but I kept going, pushing my legs faster, breathing hard.

"Caius! Stop that!" Felix bellowed.

I saw a pillar, felt Caius getting closer, and launched myself up high, grabbing onto the ledge. I was right beside a window. A big, beautiful, stained-glass window. It was my only way out, unless Demetri and Felix could somehow restrain the raging, bear-like creature below me, who looked like he was about to come up to my level.

Felix took one look at me and shouted, "GO! GO NOW!" And then he launched himself at Caius, latching onto his back, yanking backwards. Caius roared once more and fell back, glaring daggers at me, his hand reaching for me.

"Get out of here!" yelled Felix again.

In a bit of a haze, I trailed my fingers gently against the gorgeous art of the glass. Orange light, splitting into a thousand colors, glittered like gemstones as it streamed to the floor. On the faces of the fighters below, it glittered into diamonds. Making their faces almost beautiful in their horrifying stances.

"Sorry," I breathed.

I launched myself through the glass, watching with a sort of fascination as it shattered, and then I hit the ground in a roll, pushing myself up and forward, over the beautiful green lawn, over the hidden holes where I heard confused bickering, over the high wall that separated the royal vampires from the unsuspecting people below.

The glanced at me suspiciously as I lowered myself to the busy street, but I didn't care. I rushed for my car, parked at the end of the street, and threw myself inside, fumbling for the keys to slide into the ignition, and peeled out of Italy.

I didn't turn on the radio, didn't turn on my brain. I just drove.

_Oh my God,_ I thought, coughing. _I almost died. I almost died!_

Something I had almost wanted before now seemed horrible. Terrifying.

**OOO**

"She's in _Brazil_?"

**OOO**

**Sorry if this is a little late to your liking. It just wasn't right the first few times I wrote it. I still don't feel too hot about it. **

**Oh, and remember the Jake, Carlisle, Charlie, Seth, Jasper, and all the Cullens are in the past than Renesmee. If I had to say how long, I'd probably say about a day or two behind her. She's quick, and she's changing her mind a lot. And Alice gets delayed visions because she's not really looking for anything to disappear.**

**Hope that wasn't too confusing. **

**Jamie.**


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